


Nothing but trouble

by khaleesian



Category: Fast and the Furious Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-17
Updated: 2013-05-17
Packaged: 2017-12-12 04:16:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 51,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/807122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khaleesian/pseuds/khaleesian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inertia, momentum, gravity</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Female trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian: What’s that supposed to mean?
> 
> Roman: It means: you’re always getting in trouble over a female, Brian!
> 
> -2Fast2Furious

It was hot. It was really fucking hot.

The sweat on Dom’s forehead was too hot to move. The ink of the newspaper was filmy and melted onto his fingers. He rolled his head back on his shoulders, unconsciously seeking a tiny breath of air. The air didn’t feel like a blast from an oven. Forget oven, think kiln.

Down here for a few days a year, the wind turned itself around. It stopped sweeping cool breezes off the face of the Pacific and turned to whip hot desert wind off the high plain. The Santa Anas. This year, those days had stretched to a month, as if the wind decided it likes the enforced peace of the heat wave.

Letty stood at the sink, letting the well water slide over her wrists. Up her forearms. Her hair was bound up and tendrils had come loose. The flush high on her cheekbones, the shadow of exhaustion that curved around her eyes made her look even more beautiful.

It occurred to him that he should feel something now. Seeing her like this, her body weighted down with languor, full, ripe and graceful. Sultry. He should be aroused. He should desire her. He should combine their heat, stoke it until it becomes a waterfall of sweat, until their release cools by contrast. He watched her, wondering what held him back.

It occurred to him that they’ve been doing this to each other a lot lately. They didn’t meet each other’s eyes unless a challenge was being thrown down. But they watched each other peripherally, catching the odd, unprotected moment. But he lingered too long.

“What?” Letty lashed the word at him like a whip. Her eyes narrowed with impatience and he felt oddly guilty.

He couldn’t say the words, couldn’t actually push them through his mouth. We never talk anymore. It was too…girly. They never talked much in the first place.

“Nothing,” he grunted and it sounded harsh in his own ears. She arched one eyebrow and stomped off to the garage.

The day passed, but only because it must. He wondered how long he could keep this up. How much longer they could keep it up. Pretending.

It was impossible to sleep in this heat but they tried because they couldn’t think of an alternative. They went to bed early so that they could get up and function in the bearable temperature of dawn. They lay as far apart as possible to keep the sweat at bay. Dom lay face up, listening to her breath even out like the whirr of a cooling engine. He couldn’t sleep but he sank further into the silence.

This silence between them, that passed for peace.

****

In Miami, there was always a pause while the gears shifted between daytime and nightlife. The whole city waited like shocked partygoers, while the sun slunk away like an uninvited guest. The lights came up doubled, reflected in the waters of the bay. The music changed tempo.

They’d had a leisurely late dinner first, talking comfortably. They gave Pearl a wide berth, not wanting to stir up any unpleasant memories. They spent half an hour in the milling sweat of Crobar before privately admitting that neither of them felt cool enough to be sipping mojitos with the wasted youth. They ended up at a bar that Monica claimed had been hot a generation ago. Now it was cool with silent waiters and low lights. They stood out on the back portico overlooking the sparkly bay, letting the breeze tickle the ice cubes in their drinks.

“Enjoying the view?” Monica’s eyes were shadowed in the twinkling light.

“It’s gorgeous.” Brian shifted to make more room for her at the rail. “An almost perfect evening.”

“Almost?” Her voice was quiet and confessorial. “What’s keeping it from being perfect, Brian?”

He paused and cursed himself, he’d done it again, gotten too relaxed and let shit slip. He knew what he should say now, he should fall back on his charm, tell her it would be perfect if they were alone. But he’d let the silence spread and Monica could see through bullshit at fifty paces. They were too alike that way.

“Do you have any old friends that you’ve lost touch with?” He could give her undercover truth.

She arched her neck and looked at him steadily. Of course she has, dumbass. She’d been someone else for what probably felt like forever.

“Do you find yourself thinking that things would only be…perfect, if…you knew they were okay?”

“Mmmmmmmm.” She looked up, maybe she was hunting for stars. “You worry about things like that, you’ll end up worrying too much. I mean, people get stung by bees, slip in the shower, die in all kinds of dumb, pointless ways. You can’t change that by worrying.”

He couldn’t help but grin. Every time she opened her mouth, he liked her more.

“Is that why you became a cop? So if you died, at least it wasn’t meaningless?”

“I don’t know,” Monica looked down at her glass. “When I thought that Carter was…well, you know…it felt pretty pointless to me. I wasn’t afraid, really. I was just…I kept thinking about all the things I’d meant to do. All the things I hadn’t said my family.”

Brian wrapped his arms around her. The blazing heat of her skin surprised him; it was as if all the emotions she didn’t allow on her face came surging out through her skin. That much heat felt dangerous. He resisted the urge to put his hand to her forehead to check her for fever. Didn’t they start out talking about the weather or something?

“Brian, I’m going to be thanking you for the rest of my life for what you did.” She squeezed him tighter to choke off the protests that he opened his mouth to make. “Shut up. Really. It was the stupidest, most insane thing anyone’s ever done for me and that’s saying a lot.”

He laughed and inhaled the scent of her hair. “I’m a big showoff.”

“I prefer to say you ‘think outside the box’.” A moment passed while that sank in and then their laughter mingled in the silky warm air. They paused for a moment and then Monica leaned back against him like it was where she belonged.

“You know what’s weird?” She said softly into his shoulder.

He stepped back and put on his kindest face for her. “What?”

“A couple of times, I’ve found myself worrying about him.” She smiled her halfway smile. “About Carter. Strange, no?”

Brian tried to say something and discovered that he couldn’t. Her eyes were so clear, he was afraid to look at her.

She continued softly, “My fate was in his hands for so long. And for a little while, his fate was in my hands. That sort of…created a bond between us. Does that…sound weird to you?”

Brian took a quick sip of his drink and nearly choked as the rum seared his dry throat. He almost stuttered. “No, it…doesn’t sound weird at all.”

****

Letty’s permanent expression was one of dissatisfaction. She was always sneering like some spoiled princess; her face said that nothing would ever be up to her standards. It lingered in her eyes even when she smiled. Dom used to find it irresistible because the only time she lost the look was when he was fucking her.

Letty straddled him, sitting back on her heels. Her heat hovering over him was sweetly unbearable, like an itch that his fingernails could almost reach. Just by arching his back, he could thrust hard enough to make her wince. But he didn’t like to hurt her even if that’s what she wanted, what she demanded. He didn’t even touch her, just traced a drop of sweat over her sternum, between her breasts. He closed his eyes and deepened his breath so he could lie still and let her take her pleasure from him.

Dom could do this because he was patient. He was patient but she was not. The sudden insight made him open his eyes and squeeze her hips reflexively.

When she threw back her head and dragged them both to completion, he kissed her shoulder blade as she pressed herself into the almost-cool sheets. He lay beside her, stroking her with his fingertips while she drifted away and then slid silently to his feet. He padded to the kitchen, grabbed a beer and stepped out onto the patio. There wasn’t a hint of a breeze and the moon looked like it was congealing from the heat.

Naked, he walked out to the crest of the hill and scanned the horizon. The moon was silver on the line of surf far below. The stark beauty of the landscape gave up no clue as to why Letty was so unhappy here.

It had been fine between them for the first few weeks. There was so much other to focus on. Mourning for Jesse, for Vince. Arrangements to be made. Coordinating with Mia and Leon, so that life could go on in some vaguely familiar way. Their feelings of doubt were pushed down under the concern that they both shared for each other. And then….and then what?

She had healed from her injuries. On the outside she was whole. He knew intimately that the bones knit, the skin seamed but the pain grew underneath. She wouldn’t acknowledge that there might be pain left over and she got enraged if he tried to acknowledge it.

She’d gotten bored. Bored with the enforced isolation, bored with the relentless natural beauty. Bored with him. He sometimes forgot how young she was; that she had never had to deal with the kind of chaos that would make her crave tranquility. He forgot that she was never patient. But more and more often he saw the sideways look in her eyes. Like a wild animal caught in a trap.

Letty craved conflict, struggle. In times of peace, she attacked herself.

Dom pressed the heels of his palms into his eye sockets as if he could rub away the memory of Letty’s hunted looks, her impatient sneer. In the iridescent green and purple behind his eyelids, Letty’s dark, simmering eyes metamorphosed into eyes of clear, glacial blue. Dom let his chin fall to his chest.

_This was my dream. Not hers._

He remembered the long years ago when her voice baiting him made him clench his jaw and win. When her unspoken dares and derision made him try harder than humanly possible. And he did the same to her, condemning her best efforts with ‘nice, for a chick’. Stoking the fire of excellence in her by not giving an inch. Their relationship was always a marriage of equals: no quarter given or taken.

She needed to be with someone who loved her better. Or loved her differently. Who loved her in a way that she needed to be loved. There was too much intensity between them, too much will. The way they had trained each other to be strong ensured that neither of them could ever be gentle.

****

They went to dinner again after Carter Verone’s arraignment. Monica didn’t want to go alone and after the whole ordeal, Brian couldn’t blame her. Carter smirked at both of them as if he were already measuring them for caskets. Just to infuriate him, Brian kept his hand on Monica’s shoulder throughout the entire proceeding.

Monica let him get away with the macho posturing, but she shot uneasy glances at Markham. Obviously, her boss still considered Brian something of a bad element. Luckily, Agent Markham was too caught up in the pleasure of nailing Verone’s metaphorical nuts to the wall to notice the fraternization.

Monica took him to a pasta place afterward and rolled spaghetti on her fork expertly. They skirted all talk of Carter and talked about her next assignment, which promised to be soon. The brass were always kind to whomever danced closest to death. Markham was talking her up for a promotion.

“But I’m not sure if that’s for me.” Monica toyed with her bread. “I’m not that good at the whole administration thing.”

“I feel you,” Brian answered. “You get kinda hooked on the rush. Can’t exactly see you behind a desk. You’d be wasted.”

“Exactly,” She smiled without showing teeth. “Is that why you got out of the life? Someone threatened to bench you?”

Brian sometimes wondered if he was going to live undercover for the rest of his life. Dinner with a cool, smart woman, it should be easy. Fun. But it still felt like there were casual questions that he couldn’t answer and trails of lies that he had to track. This is ridiculous. He reminded himself that she wasn’t trying to trick him.

“Something like that,” Brian wondered what Markham had told her. “There were a lot of reasons.”

There was a comfortable lull while they both chewed.

“So what’s Mr. Pearce doing with himself, lately?” Monica asked innocently.

Brian chewed for a while and then spoke. “Besides causing trouble? He got a job, repossessing cars and boats. He’s already the number one repo man in Dade county.”

Monica laughed, “That sounds like the perfect job for him. You guys still going to do the garage thing?”

Brian hedged. “It’s coming together…slowly. You know what they say about working with friends? On the one hand, it’s great because you have all the shared history…on the other hand…”

“You have all the shared history,” they finished in unison and Monica chuckled.

“Neither one of us is really the ‘administrative type’ either,” Brian finished wryly.

“You guys grew up together in Barstow?”

“Yeah.”

“Hot out there,” Monica said, very casually. Maybe too casually.

Again that weird disconnect. She just made a casual, offhand statement. It doesn’t mean anything. But in Brian’s mind, she had just looked through his memories and dragged one particular dusty-hot day to the surface. The first day that Roman had reached for him after practice and whispered, “ _You ever done this, Brian_?”

Snap out of it, Brian. Walk it off.

“Yeah, it was almost unbearable. Unbearably boring, too.”

“I grew up here,” She looked around the restaurant and Brian relaxed a tiny bit. “Did you know that this is the most heavily armed city in the U.S.? Supposedly three out of five people here walk around armed.”

Brian glanced around the restaurant. “Damn and this seemed like such a classy joint…”

Monica tossed her head with a laugh and flicked him with her napkin. “Smartass.”

Then she grew serious. “That’s why I became a cop, you know. The neighborhood where I grew up, where my parents still live, was all but destroyed by drugs. It’s strange, the outward changes are…small, until one day they’re pouring bleach on the sidewalk to wash away the blood.”

“So you decided to do something about it.” Brian wanted to take her hand and decided there was no reason why he shouldn’t.

She squeezed him gently and continued. “At the end of my second year on the street, I was still just some dumb uniform. I was called in on a raid of some warehouse. It was a huge operation, otherwise I don’t think they’d have asked me. Anyway, I was just walking through a room they’d thought had been cleared when one of the dealers popped out of a closet. I don’t think he knew I was there until I told him to freeze, get down on the ground, whatever. He was raising his weapon and I forgot all I’d learned about warning shots, about the law, I forgot everything except how to pull it. I shot him once in the neck and twice in the chest.”

Brian stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, “You were doing the job.”

Monica looked at him like he’d missed the point. “Yeah, I was doing the job. I just…I didn’t expect it to…feel so good. I felt like a tiger. Strong. Like finally I was doing the right thing and scoring on the bad guys. I got promoted the next year and asked for a transfer to Customs.”

Brian was still casting about for something to say when Monica raised the bets. “Did you ever shoot anyone? Take ‘em out?”

“Once.” He could feel himself stiffening and tried to head it off.

“Was it self-defense?”

He shrugged, “Kind of.”

“How’d you feel after?”

He raised his face, caught her eyes in both of his, “I felt sick to my stomach. Nauseated. But I didn’t have time to think about it much ‘til later.”

“I’m sorry.” And she really was, too. Her eyes were heavy with it.

“That’s one of the reasons I’m not a cop anymore.” He left her hand gently on the tablecloth and signaled for the check. “I don’t have the…stomach for it.”

****

One or the other of them had to drive down to Ensenada every so often for supplies. They did it together sometimes. The last time, Letty had needled him until they were both shouting. She would use anything as an excuse. Even jealousy. Though jealousy would indicate desire and he was pretty sure that she no longer desired him. Not really.

He knew that she was just trying to get him to feel something, to do something. She was getting desperate.

So today, he went to town alone.

He parked down by the waterfront and detoured through the municipal garden at the museum. Among the colorful plants and tilework, he sat for a moment trying to collect his thoughts and shake off his exhaustion. Dreams had sucked all the juice from his sleep. The sun’s rays seemed to crackle like fire.

His old nightmare was back after all the long years. In his dream, he walked through the never-ending corridors in Lompoc. The limp fluorescent light. Sounds of distant yelling or sometimes screaming. Low voices closer, spitting threats. Each plodding footstep seemed to say, you’re never, ever going to get out of here.

It was slightly different lately. Last night, the dream had taken him through the maze back to his tiny cage. And it wasn’t empty. Weak light filtered in through the bars and caught a hint of light from a bowed head. Dom had to stop and strain his eyes to see his cellmate. Then the blond head turned up and shafts of ice pierced Dom’s heart.

Letty had to shake him awake and she looked at him in a way that made him wonder if he’d cried out.

I can’t do this anymore. God, what a fool he had been. He had thought that the forces that would drive them apart would come from the outside. The cops, the Feds, the Trans, the whole fucking world would try to take a piece out of his team, his family. They had done their worst, yes, but in the end, he’d been the weak link. He’d broken the family. He’d let it happen. He was letting it happen.

Brian wasn’t the traitor here. Dom was. Shit. Dom leaned his head against the paltry cool of the tile. Just thinking the name sent a twinge through his chest.

He stood up abruptly, needing movement, motion, change. He trotted back toward the car, screwing his courage up with each step. He had to do something.

He almost swung into his driver’s seat before a shiny object caught his eye. A car.

Wow. The ’70 Moulin Rouge Plymouth Roadrunner. Less than 100 ever made. Looked like original paint, still glossed to perfection. Dual Flowmaster series 50 exhaust system. Air-grabber hood option. Dom noted the factory instrumentation. Black interior. Hurst competition plus pistol grip shifter. Don’t see one of those every day. Dom whistled softly.

He knew better than to touch, but anyone who routinely drove a car like this around would be accustomed to having it admired. It was beautiful. An amazing machine, floated through his head. His discerning eye caressed the chrome and perfect lines until he detected an imperfection. There. Above the driver’s side front wheel, a tiny nick in the finish. Could be measured in millimeters. But it had already rusted and if the owner wasn’t careful…

He imagined the gleaming perfection corroding from the inside. Weakening until it was a crackling shell, no protection at all. No hint would show on the exterior until the inside was almost unsalvageable. _Like me._

“You got a problem?” Came a rough voice from his blind side.

Dom almost said yes before he jerked himself back to the here-and-now. The man who stood beside him, dangling keys, had a rough, craggy face like life had filed him down to his hardest elements. He faced Dom warily, his eyes cold and body taut as if prepped for anything. Dom opened his mouth to speak and noticed the faded tattoo that spread across the man’s upper arm like a web.

“You looking for someone?” the rough man hazarded, while Dom stayed stupidly silent.

Dom had seen similar tats on some of his customers. The barrios of Mexicali and elsewhere had evolved their own mythos and symbolism to give the residents strength in the face of bone-grinding poverty and crime. Some wore a devil’s head with a halo. Others had pachuco crosses, praying hands or slogans full of gallows humor. This man proudly wore inked tombstones, spider webs and a thousand symbolic variations indicating Mexican Mafia but Dom’s eyes were drawn to a ghostly figure blindfolded with its hands extended.

 _Ciudad los Personas Perdidas_. The city of lost souls.

For a long moment Dom stared at the faded ink, oblivious to his own rudeness. He felt as if the brand was spreading across his own skin. Across his chest. Hell, across his face. He shook his head as if he could shake away the sense of loss. The cholo looked like he was two seconds away from throwing a punch.

“Beautiful ride you got here,” Dom pointed down at the nick in the finish. “But you ought to see about getting this filed and sealed. It’s only gonna get worse.”

The gangster looked down at the mite of rust and then up at Dom, bemused, “Thanks, man.” He seemed unconvinced that Dom wasn’t some rival gang’s enforcer. Dom nodded at him and turned away. The cholo called after him softly, “You sure you’re not looking for someone?”

Dom shook his head again and thought _I am, but at least now I know who_.

********************

As he pulled up in front of the cottage, he could tell at once that something had changed. Her car was out, its decals gleaming in the afternoon light. He’d come home early. He’d surprised her.

There was no mistaking what she was doing. Most of her things had already vanished into the duffle bag. She was so engaged in her packing that she started when she noticed him in the doorway. A strange look passed over her face. She straightened and her eyes dared him for one last time.

“Dom, I can’t...” She stopped and looked down for a second. “I can’t do this anymore.”

When he stayed silent, her resolve seemed to harden. Her eyes hardened. “You don’t…we don’t …work anymore.”

A crystalline memory shimmered in the air before him like a mirage. He remembered the day he had strode out of the state’s living nightmare and she and Mia had been waiting on the far side of the chain link fence. He couldn’t hug the tense, scared look out of their eyes; no matter how much they smiled or even laughed with him. Their brave faces had never wavered but their eyes gave the game away.

He remembered the weight that had rolled away as the hills of Lompoc had opened up around him. The delicious freedom that had lasted until Mia pulled up to the house. When Vince and the boys had surged up from their sprawl on the porch, hooting with excitement. It was at that moment that he realized that his father was really and truly gone. He realized that all of these faces would now turn to him for questions answered, plans approved. He felt the weight again, on the back of his neck.

Quickly he looked back up into Letty’s face, wanting to say something, to absolve her somehow. He felt a quick upwelling of pain that he tried to bury quickly. This was the first time in years that one of his team had decided something without him. Wasn’t that what he’d wanted all along? And, ironically, bitterly, appropriately, what she’d decided to do was _leave_.

“I’m tired, Dom. Tired of living with his…with their ghosts and your shadow.”

So this was it. This was how it ended.

“You don’t have to go.” Dom grated out. “I will.”

****

Brian took Monica home and stayed with her late. Her new apartment was air-conditioned and sex with her was easy. She was giving and inventive and never got shy or awkward. He would have stayed but she hinted that she liked to sleep alone. And he wasn’t going to push. He liked her a lot. He wondered idly if he could grow to love her. It would be so much easier.

Brian took the long way home because the warm, moist air whipping through the car felt so good. Felt like fingers caressing his face.

Walking up to the boat, he noticed that his bedroom window was glowing a flickery blue. While normally this might have alarmed him, he was now unsurprised to find Roman inside, playing Grand Theft Auto. Roman acknowledged Brian’s presence by lifting his chin a half-inch.

Which meant one of two things. Option A: Roman was bored and insomnia was a bitch. Option B: Roman was pissed off about some imagined slight and wanted to ‘discuss it’ with Brian. Brian’s senses went on full alert. A bored or pissed-off Roman Pearce wasn’t someone to turn your back on.

“Rough day?” Brian asked, trying to keep it cool.

Roman’s game-avatar flipped his car and the game-cops riddled him with bullets. Roman sat up and tossed the controller to the floor disgustedly.

Rome sneered at the screen that flashed ‘Mission Failed’ in pink. “Mission failed, that about covers it. Didn’t get that jackoff’s Lotus. Almost got my ass shot off for my trouble.”

Brian made sympathetic noises. Inwardly, he began preparing for the fight. Roman’s idea of anger management was typically to simmer until a worthy opponent came along. Which was Brian, more often than not.

“You banging the cop lady?”

“Yeah,” Brian sighed and snapped open a beer. “Not like it’s any of your fucking business, but yeah.”

Roman flared his nostrils. “I can smell her on you.”

“Nice talk, Rome. You used to have some class, or was that just my imagination?”

Roman grinned and his teeth looked dangerous in the low light. “Used to be you wouldn’t pull over to the side for Carter Verone’s leftovers.”

This was Brian’s cue. Roman wasn’t really interested in talking, his blood was up and he wanted to punish someone. And Brian was here and he knew the steps in this dance. Brian set his beer down, very deliberately and pushed himself off the counter. “Shut up, Rome.”

Roman rocked his head and looked out at Brian almost…seductively. “Don’t tell me to shut up, Bri-an.”

Brian swung at him without hesitation. In the last second before Brian would have knocked the smirk off his face, Roman ducked his head an inch sideways. Brian’s jab slid off his jaw and Brian’s knuckles grazed Roman’s ear in a way that couldn’t have felt good. Roman ducked under the punch and hooked Brian a sharp one in the gut. Rome didn’t wait for Brian’s countermove. He closed immediately.

Brian knew it wasn’t to his advantage to let Rome behind his guard. The only lead Brian had when they fought was his height and his longer reach. But he knew that this wasn’t real, well, maybe the anger was real. Roman didn’t really want to fight him, the fighting was a smokescreen. Roman just wanted to get…close. He wrapped an arm loosely around Rome’s neck, trying to push him down without hurting him.

Roman struck the back of Brian’s knee with the edge of his palm like a karate chop. Brian went down in an awkward lopsided heap in the few feet between the closet and the bed. Roman was on his back in an instant, dragging Brian up and forward in a half-nelson. Brian found himself face to face with his reflection on the mirrored closet door. Roman jerked him up to a kneeling position and breathed triumphantly in his ear.

“I still fight like shit?”

“You could do better,” Brian huffed through the tight band of flesh at his neck.

Roman’s teeth flashed, “Like this?”

Roman reached down with his free hand and dragged the backs of his fingernails outward over Brian’s half-erect cock. He thumbed down Brian’s zipper and jerked Brian’s loose pants to the floor. Brian could feel the pressure of Rome’s cock, jutting against him. Roman was hard everywhere, dense with muscle. Brian wanted to close his eyes but the sight in the mirror: Roman’s chin hooked over his shoulder, his dark fingers taut around Brian’s cock was overwhelming. Brian’s lips were an inch from the mirror and the steam hazed Roman’s reflection.

Roman seemed to think that he had gained the…upper hand as it were, so he let Brian slide out of the choke hold. Brian leaned his impossibly hot face against the mirror and tried to regain his balance. This left Roman free to maul him with both hands. Roman was almost always so rough that it was almost cruel but at this moment too rough felt just fine.

Roman spread his left hand under Brian’s t-shirt and his nails flicked at the roses of Brian’s nipples before pinching them. Roman curled his fingers over the base of Brian’s cock and pressed down hard. He could feel Roman’s cock tracing the curve of his ass, between his legs. Roman slid his hand over Brian’s hips and nudged his legs together around his hard length. Brian grinned inwardly. Roman must’ve been cooped up here, waiting, for almost all the time Brian had been out with Monica. Now Roman was too impatient to fuck him properly.

Roman’s cock thrummed against Brian’s balls rhythmically as he thrust. He grinned as he slammed Brian forward so hard, Brian almost cracked his head on the mirror. Brian put up one hand to brace himself.

“Is that how things are, Bri?” Roman whispered. Brian could only see the whites of his eyes. “Are you solo para mujeres?”

The soft Spanish in his ear made Brian’s cock pulse and his blood boil with arousal. That was one subject Roman had always had it over him in school. Of course, Rome did lots of extra ‘homework’ with Rosa and Blanca and Estella…Fine. Roman wanted to play this way that was his choice.

Brian reached backward with both hands, wrapped his arms around Roman’s waist and grabbed his left wrist with his right hand. He tightened his grip and was meanly pleased to see Roman’s reflected eyes widen. Brian tightened the long muscles in his thighs and locked their bodies together. Roman’s jerking hand on Brian’s cock stilled but he didn’t let go. Roman tried to pull back but Brian had him, had them locked together. Roman struggled for another minute, then gave up. Their eyes met in the mirror. Roman reached up with his left hand and brushed at the sweat on Brian’s cheekbone.

Brian came when Roman’s come spurted on his balls. Roman’s orgasm was like anything else he did. Fast, fierce and unrelenting. Roman leaned against him for the space of three breaths and then pulled away; leaving Brian to pull up his pants and totter over to his bed, damp and sticky. Brian found a towel amid the tousled sheets and gave himself a halfhearted swipe as the outer door slammed.

Brian sighed as he settled himself, throwing an arm over his eyes. When had they settled into these roles? When had Brian become the ‘responsible’ one, making sure all their debts were paid? Being the fucking diplomat, while Roman courted trouble at practically every opportunity? Roman was more fun than anyone had a right to be but being with him was exhausting. Roman thought nothing of waking Brian up at all hours, borrowing money to race or gamble and cleaning out the refrigerator to feed his ‘metabolism’.

And what did Roman ever do in return?

 _Oh yeah_ , thought Brian, _make me come so hard that it feels like my teeth are going to fall out_.

****

When you don’t know where you’re going or just what in the hell you’re doing, inevitably, you head to where you think home is. Which was why he’d ended up between the high concrete medians that funneled the impatient fleet of cars into the WELCOME TO THE UNITED STATES part of Tijuana.

Dom waited in the morass of cars trying to cross the border in a noontime crush. After brief consideration, he’d decided to cross on the strength of his fake ID, warrants be damned. If he got pulled in, it was God’s judgment on his mission. What the hell was wrong with your life when the only people who wanted you for certain were the police?

He got waved through after some official had taken a distracted look in his trunk. Obviously, they had bigger fish to fry. Dom gunned the engine, exhilarated. It lasted all the way up to Long Beach.

Shifting from the 5 to the 101, Dom was struck by how crowded and ugly everything looked. His little Mexican hideaway had spoiled him. So many people around, so many cars. The tunes of a hundred languages, the scent of exhaust, sweat, eucalyptus and fried food filled his head. It felt claustrophobic and exciting at the same time.

Mia’s new apartment, paid for out of their racing/stealing slush fund, was in a nice green neighborhood south of the university. She’d sent him pictures of it, asking his advice, though obviously she didn’t need it. She had thrived having a place of her own, new friends, a citizen’s job. A life of her own. Not having to clean up after anybody but herself.

Dom made his way up the steps weighted down with all the shit he couldn’t figure out how to say. Mia smiled at him sweetly from her front stoop. She hugged him and he noticed that she was thinner but it seemed to suit her. Her nails were polished. That was new.

“You were expecting me.”

“She called.”

Without another word, she led him inside and started making dinner. He sat at the table in her breakfast nook and let himself be soothed, watching her effortless grace as she put a meal together. Dom remembered the smile on his father’s face as he had done the exact same thing fifteen years ago. His mother had made food appear like magic with the same ease and grace. Suddenly, he had to rip a dishtowel almost in half to keep his eyes from tearing.

Mia put some salad in bowls and noticed his face when she brought them to the table. She knelt beside him and took both his hands in hers. Her fingers stroked his palms like bird’s feathers. “Hey,” she said softly. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay. It hurts now, but it won’t always.”

Dom shook his head. His mouth felt like it was full of hardening concrete. She patted him and served up the rest of the meal. They ate in silence and then he helped her clear away. He didn’t know what to say, so he told her a joke and relaxed a little when she laughed. It got easier, slowly.

They spoke differently to one another now, like cousins instead of siblings. Like grown-ups. It was easier. Now that their conversation didn’t have to work its way out from under the weight of his ambition. He sat on her couch and she stood by the window looking out at the rosy light of sunset.

Mia asked, “You love her?”

“You know I do.” Dom rubbed his head. “I just…I thought that loving someone meant that you would be happy together.”

“I don’t think it’s that simple, Dom. You know it’s not. I think loving someone means that you want what’s best for them…whether or not it’s you.”

And that was it, of course. Looking around at the pleasant, stylish apartment, he got the sinking feeling that Mia was another woman who didn’t profit from his attentions. He was happy that she seemed so well. It seemed petty to be annoyed that he wasn’t somehow involved in her happy life.

Mia continued, “I love you both…but truth be told I never thought that you were particularly good for each other.”

“Why?”

Mia sighed. “I’m assuming that when you risk coming up here, you don’t come to hear bullshit from me. So I’m going to tell you some things that might hurt now, okay?”

Dom nodded and braced himself. He could feel how much Mia loved him, how much she’d thought about this, he’d been a fool, a complete idiot, not to have asked her advice before.

“Dom, you’ve had it too tough for too long. After Dad…” She looked at him for a long moment as if the words would raise welts in his skin. “You were always so worried, so protective of us. You made your happiness secondary to the team; you made yourself the last priority. You did what a leader is supposed to do. But your fear clouded your judgment. You wanted us to be successful and prosperous and, of course, we wanted that too. But we also wanted you to be happy. You never seemed to understand that and so, maybe, we took you for granted. Letty wanted to be what you needed, but she’s too strong to lose herself. She tried, but it was like trying to shove a square peg in a round hole.”

“Were you always this smart?” He tried to kid but his voice came out hoarse. “Or was I just too stupid to notice?”

She looked away for a moment, out into the growing darkness. “You’re not stupid, D. You just never listened to me and I hated you for that. You need to listen to me now.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He toed at the carpet in a way she’d have to remember from when he took the fall for her when they were kids. She recognized it at once and gave him a quick hug.

“Dom, you need to stop thinking about what’s best for us.” Mia smiled wryly. “There is no ‘us’ anymore.” She stroked the back of his neck to take the sting from her words. “And that’s okay. Maybe we needed to…grow up. Start being ourselves. We couldn’t do that when we were a team first and individuals later. And you need to stop thinking about what’s best for the team and start thinking about what’s best for Dominic Toretto. I don’t think you’ve ever bothered to figure that out.”

Mia had just opened up and said things that he hardly let himself imagine. He tried to imagine telling her now, saying it all out loud. In the last few months, he’d learned that you couldn’t actually die of loss. Maybe you couldn’t die of shame, either.

“Mia, I think I know.” Dom said this low. He felt like a chasm was opening between them. Mia smiled at him, she didn’t see it yet. “I think I’ve figured it out.”

“Lay it on me then, big brother. What’s it going to take to make you happy?”

He leaned in, it was very important that he held her eyes right now. She needed to know that he was dead serious.

“Mia…” God, this was agonizing. “ **He** made me happy.”

There was a moment where he thought he might have to explain himself and dread weighed on him. But then comprehension dawned. She shook her head slowly. Color drained from her face until her skin turned to milk. She walked out onto her tiny balcony and some instinct told him not to follow her.

He sat for what felt like an hour. It felt like someone had bombed the house and he had to be very still or it might collapse on him.

When she returned, her eyes still looked like holes in her head. But when she spoke, her voice was remarkably steady.

“Always?”

He could no longer speak, but he nodded.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” It was almost a gasp.

Dom looked down at his hands, where he’s twisted the dishtowel into an unhappy rag. He grunted, “I thought I was crazy. Plus, he was yours.”

Mia made an impatient gesture and her voice was stronger but tinged with bitterness. “He wasn’t mine. He was **never** mine.”

Dom was silent. When he dared a look at his sister, he was struck by how calm and…almost appraising she looked.

“You don’t seem….”

“Shocked?” Mia raised her eyebrows. “Appalled? Horrified?”

“…yeah,” He breathed.

She grinned a tiny, wry grin. “I asked for it, didn’t I? I asked you to look into your soul and decide who you were…I can’t really complain or argue with what you discover, right?”

She leaned back and picked nervously at her nails. She looked down at her hands as she spoke. As if she was talking to herself.

“I had…well, at the time, I was just happy that you guys seemed to be becoming friends. You needed new friends, Dom. He was so…new. I think that we both needed people to look at us with fresh eyes.”

Mia continued in a lower voice, “He was sweet to me. He was kind to me. But I could tell from the beginning that he didn’t love me. I thought that maybe that would change…how many people really fall in love at first sight?”

“At least one,” Dom muttered as he stared at his feet. The sudden silence made him look up and realize that he’d said it aloud…jeez, he’d gone from barely acknowledging his feelings to blathering about them fast enough to make his own head spin.

He looked sheepishly up at Mia, whose lip twisted, but her eyes were kind.

“So now you know what you want,” She tented her fingers together. “Do you have any idea how to get it?”

****

Brian raised his head from the pillow and groaned. A speedboat had just roared up the channel and his home rocked with the illegal wake. Hangover. Swaying bed. Cottonmouth. Not good.

When the waves had rippled themselves away, he pulled himself upright and stumbled into the narrow head. He managed not peeing on the floor by very tight margins. He splashed some water on his face and walked almost normally into the galley kitchen. Roman was there, bent over the tiny microwave, watching his Pop-Tart like a cat watches a goldfish.

Brian swayed into a chair. Rome turned his eyes left and palmed a box of cereal toward Brian’s chest. Brian didn’t feel up to milk so he just chewed handfuls of Chex, right out of the box.

“She slapped me,” Brian broke out suddenly.

Roman quirked his eyebrow, “I saw.”

“Who the fuck does that since 1986?” Brian continued incredulously.

Roman bobbed his head and leaned forward to examine the pinker side of Brian’s face. “She’s old-fashioned.” He turned Brian’s head to catch the light. “Most modern gals favor the right cross.”

“Was I really that much of an asshole?” Brian raised his eyebrows at Rome, giving him the innocent look, as if Roman would be taken in for a nanosecond.

“I’da been her, you wouldn’t be walking now.” Rome said, matter-of-factly.

Brian looked at him steadily. Rome shifted as if Brian’s shadowed, bloodshot eyes made his own head hurt. Brian started, “Well, it’s a good thing…”

And they both finished, “that you’re not her.”

OK. Laughing hungover was a dumb thing to do. Brian rubbed his temples and under his ears as if he could loosen the tight straps that appeared to be holding his head on his shoulders.

“Bound to happen sooner or later,” Roman mumbled this around his Pop-Tart.

“Just what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Brian tried to put some juice in it but the challenge fell flat.

Roman regarded him for a long second and then appeared to decide on a different approach. “How did it start?”

Brian hunched down over his Chex. He looked at the refrigerator and mumbled. “She doesn’t get the race thing.”

“Huh,” Roman leaned back and pursed his lips at the ceiling. His muscles did a liquid roll as he stretched his arms back behind his head. “I’m thinking you’re not referring to fact that your white ass is kinda fucking up any ‘Brown Pride’ thing she’s got going.”

Brian threw a handful of Chex at him. “The RACE thing, bozo! The car thing!”

Roman raised one patrician eyebrow, “Just so we’re clear.”

Brian snorted. Roman was nothing if not equal opportunity on the female front. Last night he’d been chasing Lithuanian tail. And been quite successful, testified the faint bite marks on his neck.

“Not a lot of ladies ‘get’ the race thing,” Roman continued. “It’s a damn shame.” He nodded sagely. Brian nodded along with him and suddenly thought of Mia. And blushed.

“Suki,” Brian offered sullenly.

“Yeah, well. Tej is one lucky bastard, but we knew that, right?” Roman sighed. Brian helped himself to some orange juice.

“’Course, that’s just your excuse, you realize?” Roman was suddenly looking at Brian like he was something under the microscope.

Brian turned his face away as if he could somehow break Roman’s gaze, he could somehow block his thoughts, hold that razor-sharp tongue at arm’s length.

Roman jingled his keys in his pocket and stood abruptly. “I gotta get to work, c’mon.”

“What do I have to ‘c’mon’ for?” Brian took a slug of the juice and felt a little better.

“’Cause my ride’s at the club, fool!” Roman did an exasperated little dance move.

“So how…” Brian started and Roman filled in impatiently: “We went to her condo and then she drove me over here...alright, genius? Want me to draw you a picture?”

Brian loped off to get his keys still shaking his head. Rome could smooth-talk his way into a woman’s bed and then get her to drive him all over creation while normal people were sleeping.

Brian grinned as he put on his shoes. He hollered, “So you missed the breakfast sex just to come see if I was doing okay?”

Rome was in the bathroom, examining his love bites in the mirror. He grimaced at his reflection and flicked Brian the bird.

“That’s really sweet, Rome,” said Brian in his sincerest tone. He batted his eyelashes.

“Blow me,” Rome returned in his sincerest tone. “C’mon, I’ve got shit to do.”

They loaded up into the newly restored Skyline and headed back to the scene of the crime. Brian tried to remember just exactly what he’d said that enraged Monica so thoroughly. For some reason, Roman was digging through the glove box like he was prospecting for gold. He brandished the object of his search at Brian. A lollipop. Figured.

“She’s too smart for you,” Rome said this around his Chupa Chup but Brian had no problem understanding him. He had willed Roman to just stay quiet, but, of course, it was hopeless. Roman would just keep talking, putting all of Brian’s most secret thoughts into ugly, short words. Roman was what they called painfully honest.

“I really like her,” Brian tried to defend himself.

“Yeah, yeah,” Roman bobbed his head. “You always like them.”

Brian just stared at the road ahead.

“She’s gonna catch on, if she hasn’t already,” Rome continued. He opened his mouth and then stopped.

Brian wondered if this was the hangover, shit, he sure hoped it was. The nausea was like a fist through his guts. Why, just why oh why could it never be easy? Here was Roman here beside him, couldn’t hold onto a woman for a month running either…but if he reached for Roman right now, in the open, in sunlight, Rome would probably punch him so hard that Brian would throw up. Or maybe he wouldn’t. But he wouldn’t look at Brian the way that Dom had that last time…

Roman could be mean sometimes, but never cruel, not really. He gave Brian a searching look and the muscles in his cheeks tensed as he looked up at the cloudless sky. “Keep looking, bro.”

Brian saw the lot and turned toward it, numbly. He said almost under his breath, “I can’t.”

Roman searched Brian’s face and then frowned. He seemed to come to a decision and he tapped his hands on the dashboard in a quick drum solo. He grinned at Brian and something inside Brian eased up a little.

“You want me to call her and try to smooth things over?” Roman offered as if it was a sure bet for success He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Shit, no!” Brian couldn’t imagine a better recipe for complete disaster. “But… if she calls…can you maybe, like…not be a dick to her?” He looked hopefully at Roman’s back as Rome slung himself out towards the lone car in the lot.

Rome turned to look back at him and raised an eyebrow. He popped the lollipop from his mouth and said, “Who loves you, baby? You’re beautiful!”

Brian couldn’t help grinning like an idiot as he drove off. No one did Kojak like Roman Pearce.

****

Dom stared at Mia’s ceiling, stretched and did a little math.

Brian O’ Connor was one person.

This city that he was currently waking up in laid claim to about four million people just within its city limits. Count the suburbs that stretched for fifty miles in every direction and the less-than-legal residents and the population soared to 12 million souls. _Shit_.

Dom then considered the country that surrounded this city. The United States covered a bit over five and a half million square miles. With 290 million people within its borders. Then, of course, there was the friendly convenience of their southern neighbor: Mexico, another hundred million people but only a little over a million square miles. And Canada, which only added a paltry 32 million people but contributed another whopping five and a half million square miles. _Goddamn, motherfucking shit._

And all this assuming that Brian hadn’t just decided to fly the friendly skies off to some wild blue yonder. Dom snatched one of the pillows that Mia had left him and jerked it over his face.

Yesterday, it sounded impossibly simple. Today, simply impossible.

Dom knocked the pillow to the floor and stood up. Brian might be one person…but it took two people to race.

****

Fifteen seconds after he walked into the Gato Negro, a familiar voice had called out to him.

“Dominic Toretto! Mira lei!” Hector punched him on the shoulder and his friendly face was wreathed in an unguarded smile. Dom grinned back, God, he’d never realized how much he’d taken his respected competitor for granted before. Warmth flooded through him as Hector called a flood of Spanish over his shoulder, conjuring up a Corona and some delicious empanadas.

“So the two-time pro-mod NHRAss champ isn’t too cool to be seen with me?” Dom teased.

“Hell, nobody who see’d it could ever believe it, ese” Hector chortled. “Your little vanishing act turned you into a legend overnight. You’re more myth than man now.”

“All the better,” Dom said quickly. “I’m not in here to race.”

“Good, ‘cause I’d beat ya.” Hector winked. Then he turned serious. “You sure that it’s safe for you to be here?”

Dom shrugged. Compared to his other problems, the prospect of arrest seemed pretty tame. He sketched the story briefly for Hector, leaving out most of the details and playing up the betrayal/revenge aspects. No need to go making things more complicated than they already were.

“Whoa, whoa, D.” Hector waved him down. “What are you talking about? Brian? The snowman was no cop.”

Hector sounded so sure that Dom spent a moment wondering if it was possible that he’d just dreamed Brian’s little revelation out on Highway 86 outside Coachella. He shook his head to clear it.

“Why would you say that?”

Hector slouched back into the booth and looked thoughtful. He traced his goatee with a fingertip. “He came to see me that day.”

Dom had no trouble figuring out which ‘day’ Hector was referring to. Hector leaned forward and said urgently. “Dom, I’m really sorry about Jesse, man. He was such a smart kid, the smartest. I sometimes thought he was a little loco, but you kept him in line. You were good for him. Remember that.”

Dom clenched his fist and rapped it on the table tensely. It was still too close for chitchat. Hector veiled the sympathy in his eyes. “Brian just showed up at my place.” Hector nodded at the garage across the way. “He looked…kinda intense but trying to stay cool like the snowman always looked. Like everything was happening to him for the first time. He said there’d been some trouble, that I should be on the lookout for you.”

Dom took a sip of his beer to rinse out his dry mouth. Hearing Hector tell it, it felt like it had just happened five minutes ago.

“I asked him what the hell happened and he told me it would be better if I didn’t know. He said the cops might be sniffing around and to be careful.” Hector grinned; obviously the thought of Brian telling him to be careful still amused him.

“So that’s why you think he wasn’t a cop?”

Hector snorted. “I think he wasn’t a cop ‘cause of how he bought Luis’ Mitsubishi off of him for 20 Gs and got the fuck out of town. Cops don’t have bills like that, for starters.”

“He say where he was headed?” Dom asked eagerly.

Hector caught one of his carnales’ eyes and beckoned him over. Luis nodded at Dom and sat down, his dark eyes drinking everything in.

Hector slanted a look sideways at Dom. “You don’t really want to find him to fuck him up, verdad?”

Dom shook his head slowly. “But you don’t have any idea how I could find him, do you?”

“No, but I know someone who could help.” Hector grinned at Dom and twirled his keychain like he could’ve been wearing a zoot suit.

******************

Pulling up in front of the Racer’s Edge made Dom dizzy with déjà vu. He could almost hear Jesse beside him, trying to decipher his own handwriting from his scrawled, crumpled list. He caught Hector’s eye as the Honda pulled up beside him. Hector silently twirled his finger and he and Luis disappeared into the alleyway.

Dom lowered his sunglasses and jerked open the glass door, knowing that the brilliant sun outside would render him momentarily a silhouette. And it worked. Harry had started toward him, smiling for a fresh customer, before he realized who it was.

Dom grinned his meanest grin as Harry’s eyes widened and his smile froze. This part was easy. Intimidation, Dominic Toretto’s main stock in trade.

“Uh, Dom,” Harry started, still trying to keep up the pretense of a smile. “Haven’t seen you around for a while…how’ve you been?”

“Cut the bullshit,” Dom snarled. Harry flicked a quick look at his back door and seemed to wilt as he caught sight of Hector and Luis rolling across the showroom with cheerful faces and eyes hard as steel. It was lunchtime and they had the shop to themselves. “Former employee of yours, Brian O’Conner, ring a bell?”

“Dom, I…” Harry held up a protective hand that Dom swept right past. Dom leaned in and spoke quickly, “Look, you fuck up once, the law gets a little leverage and they start to squeeze. You don’t want to go upstate at your age, that’d be pretty hard time. It’s a serious threat, I understand.”

Dom was inches away from Harry’s quivering jowls. “We’ve known each other for a lot of years, Harry, but if you don’t want to lose all the inventory in the shop right now and most of your teeth, you’re gonna tell me what I need to know and hold nothing back.”

Harry blinked his eyes closed for a long second and then nodded his head vigorously at Dom, Hector and Luis. “Sure, Dominic, sure. You know I…Let’s go into my office.”

****

Brian went to the men’s room to pace with the cell phone. He couldn’t afford to look nervous at this stage in the game. After what felt like an hour, Roman picked up.

“Hey, yo.”

“Where the fuck are you?” Brian enunciated.

“Work,” Roman sounded like he was chewing something. “What’d you want?”

Brian gripped the phone to keep from slamming it into the cinderblock. “Your name on the lease, dumbass. Did you forget that, today of all days? You, me…a garage near the beach, being our own boss, Jesus, am I just talking to myself here?”

“You got the papers ready? They all set to give it to you?” Rome sounded bored.

“Yeah, the only thing missing is my fucking partner.”

“Do it without me.”

Brian opened his mouth and then shut it, not trusting himself not to just howl with frustration.

Rome continued, “Look, I know you’ve got them wrapped around your fingers in there. The black dude with the prison tats shows up, they’re gonna look all wide-eyed and innocent and shit. And before you know it, there’ll be some extra paperwork they have to get approved and it’ll just get…hard.”

“You’re my partner.” Brian whispered into the phone. He leaned into the cool metal of the stalls.

“I know. You know. So who else needs to know?” Rome’s voice teased. It sounded like his thoughts were miles away from what was coming out of his mouth. “Just do this part for me, Bri. I’ll remember it when you need me.”

The line went dead suddenly. Brian snapped the phone closed. He leaned over the sink to splash water on his hot face. He looked at himself as he snapped towels from the dispenser. His reflection flickered for a second and Dom’s voice echoed on the tile, _Do you know what you’re doing?_

“I sure hope so,” Brian muttered and went out to sign the lease.

****

“And that’s all you know?” Dom repeated.

Harry nodded exhaustedly. They’d come to the limits of his knowledge pretty quickly but he was white and sweating like they’d been interrogating him for days. Dom was just about to punch him on general principles. Hector caught Dom’s eye and shook his head once.

“You’re still the main distributor for Musi parts right?” Hector asked. He had leaned his chair back on its back legs and was looking at the ceiling thoughtfully.

Harry nodded hesitantly. It was obvious that he’d have agreed that the moon was made of green cheese with Dom Toretto glaring at him. “I’ve got the exclusive contract for the US.”

“You keep a database of who you sell that shit to?”

“Well, yeah,” Harry looked from one to the other to see where this was leading. “Those are pretty high-end items.”

“Sell a lot?” Hector asked like he was just making conversation.

Harry shook his head regretfully. “Not a lotta folks have the money for that stuff. Plus you have to really know your shit to install it.”

Dom felt a small glimmer of possibility thrum through him. He looked at Hector with wonder. Hector was a genius, how had he missed that?

Hector leaned in for the kill. “Print us out a list of everyone who’s ordered the following items from you: an EFI engine tuner, an MSD-44 amp magneto, an annular flow plate, a Digital-7 ignition…

****

One of the hardest things to master about being undercover was controlling your face. Looking bored when your heart was racing. Not letting your voice quiver. Brian had found it particularly hard to keep his fair skin from giving him away with a flush.

Monica’s face had the slightest tinge of a flush as she broke up with him. Brian felt like he should be flattered. Monica had managed to look relatively unmoved when Verone’s shotgun was hovering four inches from her lips.

“This doesn’t seem like a case of arrested development to you?”

Brian shivered a little at the breeze off the bay. They were on the pier. All the big discussions seemed to happen on the pier.

“That’s kinda harsh,” He couldn’t help just wanting this to be over.

She shook her head at him, her disappointment plain. “You’re smarter than this kid stuff. Race every weekend, just what are the odds that you won’t kill yourself or someone else?”

“Better than you think.”

She looked at him skeptically, “Remember that conversation we had about being a cop? At least if I die, it’ll mean something.”

“Well, aren’t you lucky.” He took refuge in bitchiness. “What’s this really about, Monica?”

She looked at him for a long moment. God, she was so beautiful. The fullness of her lips and the firmness of her jaw seemed to mock him with a dream of a normal life. He dropped his eyes.

”You don’t love me.”

He snapped his head up at this; it was the last thing he’d expected her to say. He looked her full in the face, shocked. Rome had been right, she couldn’t be deceived.

Monica sighed. She watched a speedboat flicker through the bay and started speaking without looking at him. “I try to make you jealous, you don’t even notice. I pick a fight, you don’t get mad. I ignore you sometimes, treat you bad, you never say ‘Stop. Don’t.’ Because you truly don’t care.” She looked up at his face, almost pleading. “You’re perfect, Brian, but you don’t love me.”

“I’m not perfect.” His voice cracked. Weak. Really weak, O’Conner. “I do care.”

Monica made a whatever gesture. “We started wrong, Brian. Saving me from Verone didn’t prove you loved me...”

“What did it prove then?” Brian interrupted bitterly.

“It proved that you loved saving people. You love danger.” She dropped her head on her neck like it was heavy and continued. “Brian, is this really the life you want?”

The life I want, I can’t have. But all he said was, “Not yet.”

She kept her face turned away while she nodded. “I’m going back under. Import/export firm in North Beach this time. Should be strictly white collar.” She turned to face him. “Six months tops is what they tell me…but you know how that goes.”

“So me hanging around queers the deal?” He tried to smile but it was rough going.

“I just don’t need…distractions.” She still looked kind, despite her cold words. And that seemed to be all that needed to be said. Nothing to see here folks, move along.

“I’ll be around.” He called after her as she walked away.

She turned around at that, smiled faintly and waved. When she turned back to walk, her shoulders slumped slightly, her steps seemed heavier.

He turned away. Took one step and then another. Walked back to the car, wondering how long before Roman’s sympathy turned into a sympathy fuck.

*****

“So, you talked with Hector? He must’ve had some ideas.”

Mia sat at the table watching while Dom cooked. Her kitchen was a replica in miniature of their kitchen in Echo Park so it was easy to navigate. “Yeah, how’d you know?”

She waved that off, “What’d he come up with?”

“He sold Brian a Mitsubishi for a getaway car…I also got some in-teresting information from Harry…”

Mia cut in, “Did Hector get you the plate number or the VIN for the Mitsubishi?”

Dom put the spoon down and dug around in his pockets. “Somewhere here,” he muttered. He found the scrap of paper and handed it over. “Why’d you want that? Doesn’t do us much good that I can see?”

Mia shrugged. “I’ll ask Rick to run the VIN through the DMV database, just on the off chance that it’s been abandoned or re-registered somewhere.”

Dom picked up the spoon and put it down again. There was something important behind that sentence.

“Rick?” He asked gently.

“This guy I’ve been seeing. It’s getting pretty serious actually. I met him when they came to get Jesse.” Mia’s gaze never wavered for a second. She seemed to be waiting for him to make the connection.

“And this Rick can trace a car by the VIN?” He kept his voice even.

Mia nodded and reached into her purse. “And he got this for me.” Dom unfolded the paper to find a black and white image of Brian O’Conner staring up at him. It gave him a little jolt of adrenaline. Mia continued, “And he’s been doing a pretty good job of keeping Leon out of jail.”

“Rick is a cop.”

Mia cocked her finger at him like a pistol. “Bingo.”

Dom heard his voice before he could think, “You’re in love with a cop?”

Mia smiled sweetly, “Seems to run in the family, doesn’t it?”

****

“Your turn,” Brian said, peeling the label off his beer bottle.

“Ford. Esc…no…fucking Ford Taurus. Fucking piece-of-shit Ford Taurus.”  
Brian took a long swallow and said, “Don’t sugar-coat it, dude. Tell me how you really feel.”

Roman grinned sideways, hooked his chair over to the side of the deck and grabbed his crotch at the retreating Taurus. “Driving that is its own punishment.”

“That was too easy,” Brian scoffed.

Roman shook his head and his index finger. “No bitching zone. Your turn, bro.”

Brian listened until he was sure. “Mercury Cougar…80’s vintage”

Roman glanced over his shoulder. “Yaasssss, you are correct, 1984.” He took a pull of his beer.

The next car whooshed by on the 3AM street. They chorused in unison, “BMW.” Toasted each other and drank. Beamers didn’t count. The exhaust system gave the engine hum a distinctive low murmur.

Roman wadded up the shreds of beer labels and arced a perfect shot at the waste bucket. “Mazda Miata.” He said before Brian could remind him of his turn. “C’mon, mopey. It’s your turn.”

Brian tried to let the engine sound fill his mind. Roman nudged him impatiently.

“Acura Legend.” Brian said, absently. Roman looked at Brian in that intent way that didn’t give a hint to what he was thinking. But they’d been friends since first grade and Brian could feel Rome’s worry.

“She got wise to your dumb ass?”

Brian bristled and then hated himself for being so easily manipulated. Rome would always rather have him mad than sad. So he was honor-bound to be as obnoxious as possible. Brian breathed deep and shrugged.

“I guess she just didn’t like my...bad habits.”

Roman’s head snapped around. He looked closely at Brian as if to make sure that wasn’t some veiled reference to…that thing they didn’t talk about. That thing they didn’t even really think about.

“What’d she say? Didn’t like coming out to watch us act stupid?”

Brian shook his head slowly, “I think the racing thing was just convenient. She never had a problem before, remember?”

Roman grunted affirmatively. “She’s saying you got a death wish, she should look to her own ass first, yeah.”

Brian shrugged in a so-there-you-go way.

Roman paused for a long moment and then seemed to make up his mind, “But you have been acting weird for a while. Weirder since you came east.”

“What the fuck would you know about it, Rome? That’s bullshit.”

“The hell it is, Brian!” Rome suddenly seemed really aggravated, “Back in Barstow, I mean, we were always crazy-stupid but that was some little league shit. You became a cop, I thought you were pussying out on our kind of crazy. But you’ve done gotten worse.”

“You ain’t been around enough to know.” Brian knew that this was unfair. Shit, life wasn’t fair. Roman couldn’t love him the right way, just like Brian couldn’t love Monica. It was nobody’s fault.

“But lately, man? Seriously! You wouldn’t’ve gone head to head with Verone like that, jumping your car all Dukes of Hazzard n’ shit. I watched you play chicken with that asshole in the Yenko. And Tej was telling me about you jumping the bridge going 120 before I got here. That is some seriously stupid shit, Brian. You weren’t so reckless when you were sixteen.”

“So?”

“So?” For a second Brian thought that Roman was gonna haul off and slug him. “So, what gives? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Another relic of his undercover life, he could sigh when he wanted to shout, shake his head when he wanted to punch Roman as hard as he could. His fury was irrational. Rome was usually so adept at cutting through the bullshit, why was he suddenly so blind? Why can’t you understand this? What do I have to be afraid of anymore? “I dunno, Rome. I dunno.”

Roman made a sour face as if he’d smelled something especially funky. “Figure it out, brah.”

Brian stood up quickly, the deck chair scraped the fiberglass of the bow. He had to get away. Suddenly, he didn’t want fucking insight from Roman. He didn’t want Roman to try to understand. He just wanted Roman to do what he did best…distract him from his lonely thoughts. Or leave him alone, whatever.

In the bedroom, Brian peeled off his shirt and toed off his Chucks. He could feel Roman pacing on the forward deck. He could feel Roman wanting to leave. He envied Roman his ability to just accept what he wanted to accept and ignore everything else.

Roman wasn’t tomorrow or yesterday, Roman was all about right now.

And right now, Roman was right there, leaning on the doorway, looking at Brian with annoyance nearly drowning out his affection. “This ain’t no way to live, Bri.”

Fuck you, don’t you think I know that? Brian slumped back on the bed. “I don’t wanna talk about this anymore.”

Brian tried to feign sleep but he could feel it when Roman pursed his lips and cocked his head to one side. Rome flicked his gaze out to the sparkly water outside and seemed to come to some decision. Brian’s skin prickled as Rome’s weight made the bed dip.

Roman’s hand was hot on Brian’s thigh and he purred, “So, who’s talking?”

****

Mia tucked a cooler behind the passenger seat, straightened up and wiped the sweat off her face. Los Angeles was still a burning oven of stale air, tinged with the acrid scent of car exhaust. The heat and poison made the air shimmer. He was glad to be leaving. Glad to have somewhere to go.

She hugged him for a long moment and he squeezed her, stopping only when he felt her take one labored breath. He stepped back and they looked at each other for a while. He thought of how beautiful she was and just how much he hated the idea of leaving her alone in this hungry city. She smiled at him and leaned up to brush a kiss on his jaw.

They’d had a long discussion in the relative cool of the previous evening. With the map spread between them on the table, the kitchen light burning, the rest of the apartment dark to give the illusion of cool. You didn’t get air conditioning this close to the Pacific and Mia’s huge box fan was working overtime. Dom leaned on his elbows and Mia stood behind him tracing the route with her finger.

“The Mitsubishi was found abandoned right…here,” She’d tapped a fingernail over the tiny dot. “Junction, Texas.”

“Population 2?” Dom joked.

“Yeah, once a month they play bridge and it balloons to eight.” Mia said seriously. Her face was so impassive that he almost asked, “For real?” Then he caught the twinkle in her eye and checked himself.

“So he took the 10 out of town. Texas. So we can rule out the West Coast.”

“Unless he doubled back,” Mia looked thoughtful.

Dom closed his eyes to block the map from his sight. This was impossible. Why the hell he thought that he could ever do something like this…

“But I doubt that he would.” Mia continued. “I bet you get on a road like that…particularly considering….I bet you’d just want to go and go and not stop.”

Dom mulled that ‘particularly considering’. Particularly considering that he’d just watched someone die. Someone else almost die. Particularly considering that he’d just killed someone. Particularly considering that he’d just flushed his career down the toilet. Particularly considering that he was leaving the person who…okay, that was just stupid. Dom had left first. Let’s not forget that.

“But the road ends,” he grunted.

“Yup,” Mia traced the blue line again. “In Jacksonville. Florida. But then you have the 95. So you don’t really have to stop until you get to Key West or Bangor, Maine.”

“So you think he abandoned his car for whatever reason…”

Mia rolled her eyes. “Didn’t you read those clippings I got you? Someone saw him and it got all ‘America’s Most Wanted’. He had to leave it. Probably hitched into San Antonio or Houston or something, got himself another car.”

Dom tried to imagine the woman or girl who found herself carting Brian O’Conner around. If she’d known that the golden boy was a wanted criminal. Practically fucking Robin Hood. He found himself wondering if Brian had slept with this nameless girl that Dom’s imagination had effortlessly conjured up. Christ, what a loser.

“Did you plot those names that Harry gave you?” Mia was asking.

“Yeah,” He tapped briefly at each of the pencil marks he had made. “There are just a couple in the rural areas, clusters in the big cities…”

“How many, say, per city?” Mia interrupted from the kitchen. She came back with two Cokes.

Dom shrugged. “Never more than five.”

“Well, that should make it easy.”

Dom rolled his head on his neck and started, “Well, I don’t know about easy…”

Mia waved it off impatiently. “Forget it, D. Bad choice of words. Nothing good’s ever easy.”

“Do you think that this is a big mistake?”

She flopped down in the chair opposite and regarded him for a full minute. He could see her choosing her words carefully again. “Dom, do you remember when you were first showing me how to race?”

He grinned in response. He could still see her looking up at him, her elegant eyebrows knitted in concentration. Her slender hand on the wheel.

“You told me that all the mods in the world wouldn’t make a difference in the end. That you could have the most Nos, perfect torque, 1,000 horsepower…and it wouldn’t mean a thing if you didn’t believe you could win. If you didn’t commit to winning in your head. That was the word you used ‘commit’. You said if you couldn’t believe in victory, you might as well go home. That you should hit it or quit it.”

He remembered saying that. The blaze of nostalgia almost hurt. Mia had never done much racing but when she did, she’d always managed to surprise the team. Except for Jesse. Jesse had always believed in Mia.

“So that’s what you gotta do,” Mia continued. “Don’t doubt yourself; just do it.”

He couldn’t trust himself with words then. He hugged her and rolled his head on her neck. Her warmth, her strength under his arms made him feel like anything was possible.

It sustained him as he packed his portable life into the trunk of the Plymouth. As Mia’s figure faded in the rearview, as he left the city’s haze behind. When Los Angeles was about to become a cloud of yellow dust in his memory, he murmured to himself, _hit it or quit it_.


	2. Male Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sergeant Tanner: Don’t forget that Toretto did hard time for nearly beating a man to death. He’s a model of self-control.
> 
> -the Fast and the Furious
> 
> Roman Pearce: You see, I got a problem with authority
> 
> -2Fast 2Furious

Interstate 10 snaked across the Southwestern desert, a blue line on the map, in reality grayish- black. It stretched for two thousand four hundred and fifty-two miles from Santa Monica, California to Jacksonville, Florida. Every exit Dom passed felt like a missed opportunity. 

He stopped on the outskirts of Phoenix to gas up and shove food in his face. He was just about to pull out onto the on-ramp when a Honda S2000 and a Toyota MR2 roared through the underpass with decals and spoilers that gave them the look of tropical birds. His kind of people. He followed them. 

They caught sight of him at the second light. At the third light, they went single file so he could pull alongside. The leader, Asian with a goatee, listened gravely to his rev and waved for him to fall in line as they made their way out to the suburbs. They let him join the second race after they’d caught sight of what he had to offer, cash-wise. 

Afterwards, when the dust had settled, he passed around the six-pack that was hiding in his cooler. The losers drank and talked a little trash. Considering that the beers had cost them each a cool grand, Dom was glad to just lean back and let them vent a little steam.

He was wondering how to start asking questions without sounding like a complete narc when someone noticed that he had LA, California plates. 

“…Like that cracker who took six bills off of you, hermano,” Nuňez toasted the leader whose name appeared to be Hero. Everyone tittered; this was obviously a story that they’d heard more than once.

Hero’s quiet voice made everyone shut up for a second to listen. Hero stroked his goatee, the picture of cool. “Four bills, Nuňez. It was four.” His girlfriend rolled her eyes ostentatiously. Hero turned to explain to Dom. 

“Kid came through here, a while back, but these losers won’t let me forget it.”

“White kid?” Dom asked after everyone oooohed at the insult.

“Like _bleached_ , honey,” Hero’s girlfriend threw this in between snaps of her gum.

“Looked like he didn’t know his ass from his elbow,” Hero confirmed. “Looked like he’d borrowed his big brother’s car. He had cash though. I thought it was easy pickings.”

“’til the last two seconds,” Nuňez mocked. Hero ignored him completely.

“Surfer boy breezed by me running cool at 140,” Hero spread his hands in an easy-come, easy-go way. “I should’ve looked under the hood.”

Dom stood up slowly, hoping they would mistake his excitement for boredom. “Well, it’s been real. It’s been fun.”

“But it ain’t been real fun.” Hero’s girlfriend smirked at Dom. 

“One more for the road?” Nuňez said hopefully. Dom shook his head trying to make it look like regret. This far…

Hero poured the dregs of his beer on the ground like he was placating the car gods. “Drive safe,” he said.

****

Roman vanished for the week after the break-up. He’d call into the new garage in the off moment and he’d send along the occasional customer. Brian bought all the smaller tools new with cash, arranged credit for the lifts and drills. Tej sent his overflow and occasionally ‘forgot’ his referral fee. Brian managed to stay plenty busy with work. He’d stayed Tej’s number-one race cash cow and Tej didn’t like to feel like he was in anyone’s debt.

Brian worked it so he only had an hour or so to himself each morning and evening. Work, get drunk, get laid, do something. He rationed his time very carefully, the way he rationed his glances at the mug shot that he’d swiped from one of Muse’s files. Just long enough so he was never in danger of forgetting. Not that he thought he would. 

****

Dom had kept up an internal debate for the last hour before he’d hit Tucson. He’d finally convinced himself not to stop when he saw a tiny ‘Visitor’s Center’ logo on one of the gas, food, lodging signs. He’d swerved from his lane fast enough to make the steering column shudder in protest.

He pulled into the tiny tourist information office and dawdled for a while, buying a Coke. He waited until the office was almost empty and sidled in to examine the map. He’d checked the index and discovered that what he sought was only two exits up. He left before any of the perky elderly women behind the counter could foist any brochures on him.

He pulled up at 1825 North Crestview with trepidation. He sat in the car for long minutes, oblivious to the heat. Rows and rows of postwar housing stretched out around him, all of them uniformly modest and neat. It was impossible to imagine that anyone as amazing as Brian had ever lived anywhere like here.

At that moment, a woman emerged from the house. Pushing sixty, moving in that birdlike, short-stride way. She made it almost all the way to the mailbox before she noticed Dom’s car hulked next to the curb. She noticed Dom and looked away quickly then looked back and tried to look friendly and unconcerned. Like she wasn’t about to go back inside and call the police or at the very least, Neighborhood Watch. Like she didn’t judge books by their covers. 

Dom slowly and deliberately opened the door and got out. He tried to make his posture harmless and his face guileless. He imagined the intonation of Mia’s voice talking to a customer and tried to replicate her effortless charm.

“Excuse me, ma’am. I’m looking for…one of my old Navy buddies and this was the last address they had for him.”

Dom was amazed by how easily the lie welled up. He must have sounded believable because the woman’s whole wary demeanor changed. When she spoke, her voice was warm. He could see that she was already imagining him in uniform, standing on a ship somewhere. 

“That’s funny. What’s your friend’s name? My son’s moved away and he never served.”

“Uhm, Brian O’Conner. He’s a…little younger than me.”

The woman frowned, wrinkling her forehead in concentration. “Name doesn’t ring a bell.”

Dom thought fast. “He had a stepfather, sometimes he used his name: Spilner?”

She paused and Dom took a deep hopeful breath. Then she shook her head, “Sorry, dear. It’s strange though, I’ve lived here twenty years and I never heard of that family.” 

“Ah, well. Army records aren’t the best.” Dom tried to squash his disappointment. He hadn’t been expecting much anyway.

“But you were in the Navy,” She didn’t make this an accusation; she just seemed to want to remind him, poor, confused sailor that he was.

“Thanks for your help,” Dom said hurriedly. He practically bolted back to the Plymouth and barely kept himself from peeling out. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Jesus. 

****

Roman won regular enough and lost regular enough to make him the most popular guy on the circuit. Brian was popular too, but people were starting to refuse to race with him. He had to rely on newcomers or people who’d just made some major new investment in their machines. But that was okay. Roman was also really good at shaming people into racing, even if Brian remained untouchable.

“You just come to watch, Romero? Why didn’t you just stay home to polish your intake? That might get you another five horsepower.” Rome would taunt, playing to the crowd.

Or he would work them up ‘til they just had to bet five Gs. “Get that weak-ass shit off the line, Chan. You got more watts in your stereo than torque in your engine.”

Roman always made sure Brian had competition. No one ever commented on the fact that Brian and Roman never raced each other. 

****

His luck improved as he rumbled through New Mexico, letting the rhythms of his body set the pace. Stopped occasionally to let the sky soak into his eyelids. He imagined Brian filling up at this gas station. Flirting with this waitress. Sleeping in this crappy motel, his face bathed in neon. 

Every time he tried to imagine what the next step would be in the miraculous event that he actually found Brian, his mind stopped dead. He could imagine standing next to Brian. He could imagine Brian looking at him and breathing. But he couldn’t go any further for some reason. He imagined putting his arm around Brian’s shoulders and then it all faded to white. 

It occurred to him that the last time he’d felt this pure, uncomplicated desire was when his dad had brought him out to look at the Charger for the first time. He shied away from that thought quickly. Drawing any comparison there was seriously bad mojo.

Dom comforted himself with the idea that he could probably just trust Brian to know what to do. Brian had always understood. What to do, what to say, when to say it. Brian had always just gotten him, even when he was half-crazy with rage and grief.

Dom stopped drawing patterns in the ketchup when the bell jangled above the diner’s door. Two highway patrolmen moseyed in, one white and slightly older, the other dark and lean. Latino, maybe. The handsome young cop looked at Dom for a long moment, working a toothpick appraisingly. Dom let his practiced look fill his face. He had literally practiced in a mirror to get the right mixture of good-citizen-curious and I-didn’t-do-anything-so-don’t-look-at-me. It seemed to work. They didn’t look at him while he settled his tab. 

When Dom pulled out, he rated another glance from the Latino cop. He kept it pegged at the limit and scanned the rearview for 100 miles. But no one came.

****

“So, what’s the secret?” Rome slurred all the ‘s’ sounds. Brian could smell the beer-sweat that soaked Rome’s shirt and it left a sour taste in his mouth.

“Huh?” Brian was having a hard enough time focusing on getting Rome inside without cracking his head on the metal part of the awning. Dealing with his own drunk and Roman’s cryptic questions at the same time was a little too much to ask.

“You won, again. Tonight.” Roman asserted, like maybe Brian had forgotten.

“Yeah. So what?” Brian had to sort of shove Rome through the tiny hall to the bed.

Rome stopped and suddenly Brian’s nudges didn’t do a thing.

“You always win,” Rome’s eyes were narrowed, he looked annoyed. “You been winning since I got here.”

“What are you saying, cuz?” Brian sighed. “Want me to throw one?”

“Naw, man,” All of a sudden, Rome seemed confused. He took a few heavy steps and then slid down on Brian’s bed. Brian toyed with the idea of pulling Rome’s boots off. Then he imagined Rome accidentally kicking him and settled for just taking his own shoes off. 

“You didn’t used to win all the time.” Rome was obviously not going to give it a rest. His hands traced through the air while he tried to make his point. “It’s ‘cause no one else is as crazy as you.”

Brian took his belt off and flung it onto the dresser. “That so?” 

“What do you think about?” 

Brian turned back to the bed. Rome was slumped across most of it. “Rome, could you try to start making sense? What do I think about when?”

Roman bobbed his head, “When you do that wacko shit you do. What do you think about?”

“I visualize the win,” Brian said shortly.

“Bull. Shit.” Rome was squinting at him in the dim light. When he squinted, Rome looked adorable. Brian smiled to himself. He wormed into the tiny space that Rome had left him.

“Look, Rome, it’s bullshit if you think that it matters. I mean, Verone didn’t do us, the cops didn’t fuck us, but I could look the wrong way tomorrow and get mowed down by a fucking Cadillac. You’re always one step away from death, man. It’s always there, in the background and you can’t control it…if not the train, then the truck.”

Rome was trying to keep his eyes focused. “That’s some heavy shit, Bri. You are really one…deep…motherfucker.”

“Lick my ass, Rome,” Brian said seriously while Rome hugged himself and giggled.  
“Really, man, what are you thinking about when you get that I’m-so-serious, constipated look?” Rome’s voice was fading out like radio static.

“Nothing,” Brian leaned over and wiped the sweat off Roman’s forehead. Roman grabbed his hand and squeezed it. Brian looked at him while Rome’s grip relaxed, while the hard angles of Rome’s face softened in sleep.

Brian hitched himself onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. _Not ‘what’. Who._

****

Across the wide plain of South Texas he drove, drove until he was numb. The sun beat down like a hammer on an anvil. He became so accustomed to the engine rhythm that it hurt to stop. The absence of the constant buzz and hum felt like it would set his heart beating off-tempo. He made himself a moving thing, not a thinking thing. 

The swath of earth that he was inching across seemed made for racers. He ran into pockets of his tribe in El Paso, Van Horn, Fort Stockton. He’d just be tooling along and someone would pull alongside and goose their accelerator. Dom felt like he was surfing a steady tide of races east. Races, money and information.

People remembered Brian. Dom hadn’t considered that. Moving completely on instinct, he’d fanned out from where Brian’s getaway car was abandoned. Like Mia had speculated, Dom picked up the trail at a tiny lot outside of San Antonio.

The proprietor looked like he was almost napping while he leaned in the shade, watching Dom examine his inventory. He answered Dom’s questions completely, but without a hint of a hard sell. Dom slowly steered the conversation to more general automotive topics until he managed to get invited inside the tiny office. The old man insisted Dom take part in an afternoon ritual that involved some truly terrible tequila. After that, Dom felt comfortable enough to ask him anything.

“You ever seen this guy before?” Dom passed over Brian’s head shot, folded around a C-note.

“You a cop?” The man asked with all the curiosity of a cow chewing its cud.

“I look like a cop?” Dom returned. 

The proprietor looked at him for almost a minute without turning away. Dom just waited him out. Finally the old man said, “That kid knew his shit. He took this busted ’96 Skyline off me. Been ridden hard, pretty hard by some punk tuner. Forgot how I came by it. It just needed a little love, could’ve been something.”

“Yeah?” Dom passed over another bill for more details. The old man cheerfully supplied them, then stopped and muttered. “You ain’t the only one been through here looking for him, y’know.”

The excitement in Dom’s belly soured a little at this. They regarded each other for a long moment. Dom suddenly had to move. 

“See which way he headed out?”

The old man nodded. “Headed east.” 

“Thanks. Really, thanks,” Dom’s hand itched for the wheel but he paused to convey the full weight of his gratitude. 

The old man looked absently past him like Dom had already left. “I like people who pay in cash.”

****

Roman was chortling to himself as he bent over the beat-up card table that Brian was using as a makeshift desk. A crumpled paper bag sat in front of him. Brian dragged over another chair and rifled through the bag to see what had survived Roman’s appetite. He found a burger and slumped down to munch. Roman was drawing something, bent over his paper like it was a treasure map.

Brian leaned back and tried to roll the kinks out of his muscles. His sandwich was almost cold, but still fed the hunger that he’d stifled for hours. This long dusk was his favorite time of day. Outside, the sky shaded from a golden blue to a swelling purple. Inside the garage, the moist air started to gentle and cool. Roman looked handsome in a loose, white linen shirt. Probably a gift from some girlfriend. 

Brian finished his burger and lit a cigarette. After a moment, Roman sniffed and looked up at him.

“Thought you quit,” Rome said. 

Brian shrugged and rebelliously took a long drag. Rome looked at him hard for another minute, shrugged himself and bent back down over the piece of paper. 

“What are you working on?” Brian asked. The smoke felt like pretty harsh solace.

“Business cards, man. We need ‘em,” Roman muttered at the paper.

“Business cards,” Brian didn’t try to mute the sarcasm in his voice. He couldn’t decide if he was up for a fight. Business cards. How fucking lame.

Rome heard the reproach in Brian’s voice. He grinned across at Brian and Brian could see the kid Roman had been. “They’ll come in handy, trust me. I’m thinking ahead.”

Suddenly, Brian couldn’t hold on to his annoyance. He couldn’t remember quite why he’d been upset in the first place. Roman didn’t owe him anything. Brian pulled the paper around to examine it. A modified Old English script spelled out “R & B Motors”. It did look cool.

Just to bust Rome’s balls a little, Brian asked “Why do you get to be first?”

Rome didn’t take the bait. He bounced up and whirled around the back of Brian’s chair. Rome pounded out the kinks in Brian’s back with the side of his fist, saying “’Cause I am the rhythm….and you are the blues.”

For a second, Rome’s lips tickled his hairline. Rome’s whisper was almost a kiss. “C’mon, homeboy, I’ll buy you a drink to go with that cigarette.”

****

A cop trailed him for four miles past Baton Rouge. 

Dom could feel the adrenaline from his shoulder blades to his fingertips. His own brand of cruise control was making the muscle in his right thigh cramp. This entire odyssey could be derailed by a little racial profiling. Dom tried to imagine a plausible story for his Mexican passport, his inordinately large amount of cash. He entertained a brief fantasy of some redneck, lynch-mob justice leaving his body in a bayou somewhere. 

The cop pulled up next to him and Dom blinked. The trooper was black and he curled his mustached lip at Dom, smirked at him for a moment before gunning it and disappearing over the next rise.

Dom exhaled. The new South.

The landscape didn’t change much while Interstate 10 ran out of steam in north Florida. The long flat road crowded by pine trees eased into a wide plain dotted with strip malls. The highway started to get crowded. The air seemed to be gradually thickening. 

Dom snorted with laughter at the interchange with 95. New York and Miami, that’s it? No Washington, D.C., no Philadelphia, no Boston? The entire Eastern Seaboard was just so much traffic for the Interstate. He thought about the long leg of Florida stabbing down into the ocean.

Dom had two miles to make up his mind. All he knew about New York was from movies and shows that were set there. He realized that this was how most people got all their knowledge about Los Angeles as well and grimaced. 

Dom tried to imagine Brian in the shiny steel canyons of New York. Shit. Impossible. 

He couldn’t even imagine Brian wearing a hat. 

****

Rome called as he was half in and half out of the engine well of a Hyundai Tiburon. Brian fumbled in his pants for the cell, almost cracking his head on the hood. 

“Yeah?” 

“You going tonight?”

“I guess. I could use the money.”

It was amazing; Brian could actually feel Roman rolling his eyes. “No, you don’t. I had your bank, I wouldn’t bust my hump like a....”

“You going?” Brian headed off the argument before it could start.

“Maybe. I wanna take Maria out, too. Maybe I’ll meet you there later.”

“Yeah, cool. But don’t leave Maria alone at a race too long, remember? Remember Heather? Leave ‘em alone too long, they go home with someone else.”

“All right, all right, I hear you.” Roman didn’t like being lectured. “Que puede hacer?”

“Nada,” Brian clicked the phone shut, shaking his head.

****

Dom took a deep breath as he pulled up to the second-to-last garage marked on Miami’s map. The breeze off the bay tickled the sweat on his forehead. This place was the opposite of the operation that Dom had inherited. The lifts stood out in the open, only the office was glassed in. Everything looked shiny-new and almost sterile, as if they were surgeons instead of mechanics. 

A young Asian man with a round, friendly face walked up to Dom, wiping his hands clean. “Can I help you?”

Dom had learned that it was best to invent a problem to get in the door. “I think I’ve holed my mag. I been doing a lot of highway driving, though. I could just be imagining things. Could you take a look?”

The young man glanced around, making sure that no deadlines were getting ignored. Dom found himself liking the kid already. The kid was conscientious. He popped the hood and walked around. The kid just stared at the engine and whistled low. Dom suddenly liked him a lot.

“Superbird, huh? Is that what I think it is?” He looked at Dom with awe and stuck his hand out. “I’m Jimmy, by the way.”

“…Victor. It’s nothing special. Looks like you do shit like this all the time.” Dom gestured vaguely at all the state-of-the-art tools.

“We don’t Nos up much older stuff. This is some serious custom shit…did you do this all yourself?” 

Dom looked appropriately smug. Jimmy punched his arm and hooted. Jimmy drew up the lift, still clicking his tongue in amazement. Then he grew serious, “Doesn’t that high of an amp make you…nervous?”

“Well, when you’ve got more current, you get a bigger, better spark.” 

“Isn’t that kinda…volatile?” Jimmy poked his nose in, easily ignoring the engine heat. 

“Naw, see it’s more complete combustion, it burns up everything, so actually it cuts down on the risk of detonation.”

Jimmy looked up and his eyes were shining as he said the words that Dom had been waiting for, “There are some people here that you really need to meet.”

****

Jimmy wanted to introduce him around, but couldn’t quite manage to pull himself away from Dom’s custom engine. Dom reassured him that he could find his own way. He walked slowly past the bays, to the glass and metal of the pay station. Behind a fancy Formica counter, a slyly good-looking man was sprawled over a chair. His vibe radiated boss. A pretty, freckled girl was braiding beads into his cornrows.

“Help you?”

Dom leaned both forearms on the countertop and glanced down at the crumpled list that had been soaking up sweat in his pocket for over a week. Dom said impassively, “Thomas Edward James Parker?”

There was a small, ladylike cough and Dom raised his eyes to the young woman who was trying to stifle her sudden amusement. The look of horror on the young man’s face made Dom’s own lips turn up. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. My name is Tej, dawg. Tej.” 

Dom had seen the sign outside and guessed its derivation…but it was kind of fun to throw Mr. Parker off his stride. Dom could tell that Tej was accustomed to being the coolest kid on the block. Tej had gotten up off his chair and was approaching Dom warily, trying to keep it chill. 

“Can I help you?”

“You’re already helping me. I’m new in town and I got your name from some buddies of mine…said you were the man to know.”

Tej acknowledged the truth of this and stood a moment, eyeing Dom, probably gauging how much money Dom was good for. “What kind of stuff do you need?”

Dom shrugged, “Like I said, I’m new in town. Why don’t you see what I run and we can go from there?”

Tej and the pretty girl started walking back to the bays with him. “Nice place.” Dom added casually, “You install Musi parts?” 

Tej cocked his head and looked thoughtful. “Yeah, I know some guys who can do that.”

Jimmy breezed up to them. “I checked and you’re clean. I just tightened you up a little. Tej, you should see what this dude is run-ning.” Jimmy’s enthusiasm drew the syllables out to a yodel. “Looks like a pro-mod. Look at the headers, Tej!”

“You tune, yourself?” Tej was looking at Dom like he didn’t quite believe it. Dom quelled a smirk. 

“A little,” Dom briefly wondered how much Tej would be good for in a race. Probably a lot.

Jimmy was almost bouncing. “Hey, you from California, right? When’d you leave, like, this morning?” He chuckled at his own joke. 

“Got some business out here and I’ve been thinking of relocating.” 

Tej looked at him sharply and Dom could almost feel the edges of Tej’s thoughts. “More West Coast playas. Just what we need.” 

Something in Tej’s casual words made the hair on Dom’s arms prickle. More? 

Suki introduced herself to Dom and he shook her hand over Tej’s back while he was bent over Dom’s shiny baby. 

“Victor should join the party tonight. You know Bullitt would love some new blood,” Suki weighed in firmly.

Tej nodded slowly and scribbled an address on a Post-it. He slapped it into Dom’s palm.

“Come and watch, why dont’cha?” Tej curled his lip enough that his gold tooth gleamed. “See what you’re up against.”

****

Dom pulled up early, stayed on the fringe. Stayed by his car. Let eyes meet and hold his but never long enough to be challenged. The crowd kept growing. He had a little while. Two or three waves before things got serious.

Dom watched the first contests with half an eye. Nothing he’d seen yet felt like a challenge. The whole scene felt familiar, as they all had. A race was a race was a race…be it Albuquerque, Anchorage, Atlanta. 

Dom gave himself a little room to breathe. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe this whole long detour was a mistake. Maybe Brian was tearing up asphalt in Framingham, Massachusetts. He was never going to find Brian.

There was no way in hell that Brian was here. This was a dream, a little fantasy that he’d spun to keep himself from looking down into the empty pit of his so-called life... 

He was meant to be alone. He was meant to be alone, that was all there was to this. He could be alone in a huge city, alone with the coolest woman he’d ever known, alone in a crowd of friends, alone always. The glittering moment of connection he’d felt when Brian had reached out to him was just a delusion that had persisted a little longer than the other lies he’d told himself.

Then a roar went up and a silver-blue Skyline nosed its way through the crowd. 

Blue neon from the undercarriage raked the street. Dom silently approved of the modish block-pattern decals. The car looked pretty but tough, not frilly. Dom had to open his own door and step onto his running board to get a glimpse of the driver. The crowd around him was thick as a milkshake.

Brian O’Conner stepped out of the car and grinned. Brian was sunburned, the flush of his skin turned his eyes a shocking blue.

Dom registered these details dimly. The sound of his own blood coursing in his ears was almost deafening.

Looking like he never looked in LA. Dom’s breath caught on a snort of laughter. He remembered like it was five minutes ago, when Brian had been so nervous that he couldn’t even stage up. But this Brian might as well have had the street to himself. Unconcerned, cold as ice. Brian was fucking Antarctica.

Tej acknowledged Brian with a high-five. Dom rubbed the knuckle of his thumb over his teeth when two women with real tans and fake tits started to chat Brian up. Brian grinned at them, drew them into a quick one-armed embrace and said something that made them both walk off, giggling appreciatively. Smooth. 

These late night Miami races appeared to be a little more than a speed record. The route Tej was detailing to his racers sounded like an obstacle course. One of the streets mentioned made the spectators gasp and titter with appreciation. Dom shot a questioning look at the guy beside him. 

“They gonna roll by a police precinct, man.” The guy bobbed his head in the rhythm of his island accent. Dom sucked his teeth appreciatively and nodded. A serious obstacle course. Dangerous game. The losers wouldn’t just forfeit their money; they’d be lucky if they didn’t have to lay out a little extra for the bail-bondsman. 

This kind of race was hard on spectators. The most they got was the sound of distant tires screeching. Tej was communicating with at least two people by cell phone, so Dom deduced that the course was supervised. Just how well supervised became apparent when the sound of distant sirens began to make the crowd nervous. Tej told everyone to hush and pretty much everyone did…though quite a few started to edge toward their cars.

The sirens and screeching tires reached a distant crescendo and then faded. Suddenly, the Skyline shot out of an alleyway like a bullet from a gun. It was obvious that the winner had left the po-po to clean up his competition.

Brian had stomped his brakes and jerked the wheel to throw himself into a stylish arc into the middle of the crowd. Brian rolled up out of the car and grinned like he’d been caught doing doughnuts in a parking lot. The crowd exploded at him. Dom felt a suffocating swelling in his chest.

Suddenly, Dom couldn’t see Brian any more because another man was standing in his way. A muscular man with skin like teak. High cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes that gave him an almost Asian look. He looked like Brian’s polar opposite, they shared nothing but the same glowing white smile. The handsome man punched Brian high on both shoulders and suddenly pulled Brian into a full-body hug. Brian didn’t seem to mind a bit.

Dom darted a quick glance around at the crowd of spectators. None of them looked surprised. So this was expected. Had to happen a lot. Dom felt like the moment the gasket had blown in the Charger with the train still seconds away. His stomach turned over. 

Dom couldn’t help it, but his tires yelped in protest when he reversed back off the line. He made his vision a tunnel, blocking out the blank faces that turned to look at the noise.

****

Brian took a half step and stumbled on the curb. He tried to jerk himself upright but he swayed and nearly toppled until Roman’s hand darted out and pulled him upright.

“You okay, you clumsy ass?” Roman slid a hand protectively down Brian’s back.

“It’s cool,” Brian tried to look Roman in the face even though his eyes wanted to slide back and search the crowd. “I just thought I saw someone I used to know.”

****

Who the fuck was that guy? Dom drove aimlessly, trying to find a deserted stretch of road. Somewhere that he could leave his feelings like tire marks on the pavement. But the roads got narrower instead of widening out and he was soon hopelessly lost. Miami spread out around him like an open sore, throbbing with infection.

You didn’t think he was going to make friends, loser? Dom kept himself from punching the steering wheel, but only just. He’s a friendly guy. The scene was branded on Dom’s memory and he turned it back and forth looking for reassurance. I was surprised, that’s all. He remembered the black man’s arm jubilantly wrapping around Brian’s shoulders again. No harm in that really. 

Dom’s throat tightened up while his stomach churned. He didn’t know exactly what he’d been expecting. Did you think he was just going to be waiting on the beach for you like a gift-wrapped package? Has your life ever been that easy?

Dom jiggled his left foot. The easy carelessness of Brian’s stance had been so graceful and unselfconscious. Brian had seemed in his natural element, his straightforward beauty gleaming like a beacon through all the flash and glamour of the scene. That other guy standing beside him close enough to be a mirror image, a photo negative. Dom’s heart clenched as unfamiliar emotions battered him. He grabbed his gearstick and shifted viciously. 

Jealousy. The word came to him like a whispered curse. 

Another feeling started to thrum in his lower belly. He’d driven through a dozen pitted streets before he recognized it. His blood felt like a frozen river that had finally thawed. His competitive spirit, his will to win obviously hadn’t died. It had simply taken a vacation and come back strong and rested.

He felt his fists clench, his jaw clench, his chest swell.

_I’m Dominic Toretto. I can beat that guy._

He nodded at his reflection in the rearview mirror. He rolled his head on his shoulders unconsciously. His body was ready for anything, but doubt suddenly made him slow the big Plymouth down to a crawl. 

He twisted the rearview mirror to examine his face. His eyes looked back at him, wide and anxious. He traced a finger over his nose doubtfully.

Maybe that guy was exactly what Brian wanted. Maybe Dom wasn’t. 

_What the fuck are you thinking, man?_

Dom wrenched the mirror off angrily and tossed it in the backseat. He scanned the road for any signs to the highway. He could be back in LA by the end of the week. Or go back to Mexicali via Texas and from there to Baja. Or he could gun the Plymouth up to 150 mph and drive it off a bridge somewhere. 

_You only gonna play if you know you can win, Toretto?_

“No,” he surprised himself by speaking. The ghost of hope, of possibility would drive him mad if he left without trying. He was ready to run this race. Well, as ready as someone with no strategy, no skill, no plan could be. 

The calm steadiness of Brian’s eyes when he’d handed over the keys had drawn him here like a magnet. That memory could cut through the haze of the intervening year like a scalpel. It had to mean something. It had to mean something.

Well, what did he have to offer? Confidence, speed, strength, loyalty, cash, a car, a nice place in Baja California. What else? A bad attitude. At least a dozen warrants out for his arrest. 

He imagined walking up to Brian and saying, you need to be looking at me like that. Not that guy. Yeah, I’ve been stalking you. Shit. This was impossible. He didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. And he had no idea how to learn.

It suddenly occurred to Dom that he was an accident waiting to happen, driving around lost and preoccupied. He pulled into the shadow of an old Deco building and took note of his surroundings. The barred windows, graffiti tags and general sketchy atmosphere let him know that he’d left the beach behind. Great. Lost in a neighborhood that was crappy enough to match his mood. Wandering into gang turf like some hapless German tourist. 

Dom scanned the street for a sign, some hint that could send him back the way he’d come. The block was a long one and the light was uneven: sputtering neon in the shops and piss-yellow moons around the streetlights. Some junkie had twisted the nearest street sign down like a wilted leaf.

Dom could hear the muffled sound of music, the weird radio hum of distant voices. But the street he’d found was momentarily quiet except for a young dealer who’d staked out a corner down a block. Dom’s eyes caught the barest hint of movement in one of the doorways two blocks down. Probably another mule. No pay phone in sight….no doubt it wouldn’t work anyway.

Wait a second, back up. He scanned the street again. Something was wrong, he’d misunderstood something. Misread some signal. 

His eye lit on the dealer again. The young man was standing there, pale in the street light and obviously at a loose end. Slim, but muscled like a soccer player. He was wearing a mesh shirt over a tank top, which looked wrong on his wiry form. His blonde hair looked faintly yellow in the weak light. When a car would cruise by, he would lean back with his hands on his hips, letting his pelvis jut forward. Not a drug dealer.

_That guy is for sale_. For some reason the thought shocked Dom more than it should have. He’d seen enough crap in Hollywood or the far eastern reaches of Santa Monica Boulevard to be foolishly blasé about the phenomenon. Boys on the corner, you’d maybe say something under your breath and not meet their eyes. But for some reason at this moment, the sight of the hustler unsettled him. 

He had a sudden moment of leaning over an engine with his father, his dad’s strong hands pointing and prompting him when he forgot something. His father’s voice telling him, _you only learn something when you’re ready to know it._

_This is a bad idea. A very bad idea. Don’t do this._ But the drumbeat of possibility pounded in his skull.

I’ll go over and ask him…ask him….ask him something. If it gets weird, I roll off. He gunned the Plymouth up the street at a snail’s pace and paused under the streetlight.

Before he could speak, the hustler leaned into the car and half-sang. “Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, you wanna play a song for me?”

Dom’s carefully rehearsed line shriveled up and died in the face of the rentboy’s knowing grin and clear blue eyes. The guy had bent at the waist to peer into the car. When he got a good look at Dom, he backed up a step and his hand curled around to the small of his back. The smile vanished. The hustler cocked his head at Dom from a safe distance and asked in a harsher tone, “You lost?”

Dom breathed again and his voice came out funny. “Yeah.”

Wary confusion was sketched in every line of the young man’s stance. He suddenly looked very young. “Yeah, you’re lost?” He repeated with disbelief. “What do I look like? The fucking Chamber of Commerce?”

“I thought…that…Maybe you could…uh…show me the way back to my place?” Dom tried to make his voice as non-threatening as possible, though he realized that it was a hopeless task.

The hustler shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. “Gonna cost you.”

“I’m sure it’ll be worth it.” OK, that sounded maybe a little threatening. Or sarcastic.

But the kid didn’t back off, the corner of his mouth turned up a little. Dom had somehow passed the not-a-psycho-killer test. He was in the car before Dom had time for second thoughts. Dom started driving, wondering how late in the game he could back out.

Dom looked at the hustler out of the corners of his eyes. His eyes weren’t as blue as Brian’s; they were lighter. His features weren’t as defined as Brian’s; they were softer. When Dom noticed that he was making a mental tally, he realized with a sinking feeling that whatever happened tonight, he was already screwed.

“So where’s your place?” Unsurprisingly, the kid was all business.

“14th Street.” Dom looked around for a receipt from the motel or something. 

The kid sighed like he was surrounded by idiots and was only now getting used to it. “Is that Little Haiti 14th Street or Little Havana?” He studied Dom’s face for a long moment. “Looks like you could go either way. We’ll try both. Turn right here.”

Dom figured he had no choice but to obey. He was the one paying for advice.

“So what’s your name?” The kid had settled into the Plymouth’s upholstery like he was glad to get off his feet.

“I’m…Dom,” No point in fucking around. Dom winced at his mental choice of words. 

“Steve,” the kid returned with an air of nonchalance.

“How old are you?” Dom asked softly.

Steve replied so abruptly and curtly that Dom knew it was a lie. “Twenty.”

Sometimes you could get past a lie if you just pretended you didn’t hear it. “How old are you?” Dom repeated.

Steve sighed impatiently and looked unhappy for a moment. “Old enough.” Dom realized he must have some vaguely disapproving look on his face when young Steve said in a plaintive voice. “Really, man. I promise.”

Dom tried to push past the moment by blurting out the first thing that came into his head, “Do you dye your hair?”

Steve looked shocked for a moment, “What the f…?” He broke off and a wisp of humor threaded into his voice. “Yeah, man. L’oreal. ‘Cause I’m worth it.” He turned his slim form to lean against the car door and sat sideways with his legs curled on the bench seat. “Besides, blondes have more fun. Haven’t you heard?”

Dom’s shoulders loosened and he relaxed a little. “I had heard that.”

“And gentlemen prefer them,” Steve rolled his head back to show the long line of his throat. “You a gentleman?”

Dom could deal with this, this trash-talking, teasing banter. This was easy. He shook his head ruefully and answered, “I’m a mechanic.”

“That’s cool.” Steve looked like he was about to add some sly doublespeak joke but then decided against it. “So what brings you to Miami, Dom?”

Steve dropped his hand to Dom’s thigh and Dom did a creditable job of not flinching.

“Ummmm,” Dom started, very articulately. 

“Hey, is that your place?” Steve asked, pointing out at the nondescript motel.

Dom dropped his head an inch and felt a weird prickle of excitement. “Yeah, that’s me.” He coasted to a halt in front of the bungalows.

“So I guess my work here is done.” Steve said like someone who was too polite to stick his hand out.

Dom pulled his roll free, peeled off a double sawbuck and asked as if it was just occurring to him. “Hey, you want to come up? Have a beer?”

“Come up?” Steve repeated as if it were a real novelty. “Have a beer?” He pressed his tongue into the side of his mouth and stared at Dom as if Dom had just turned blue. 

After a long moment, when Dom was just about to say fuck it, Steve jiggled his head and said, “Sure, man, that’d be cool.”

They trudged to the far end of the lot, where Dom’s bungalow sat alone. The darkened windows seemed to watch the two men approach. Dom keyed open the lock and stepped inside, tossing his jacket at the chair in the corner. He strode over to the mini-fridge, determined not to lose any momentum. He grabbed a couple of bottles, straightened up and turned to offer one to Steve.

The kid had disappeared.

Dom scanned the room, shocked at how completely the kid was just gone. It was like he’d vanished in a puff of smoke…in fact, Steve’s shirt lay in a heap on the floor with his right shoe and then his left shoe pointing outward. As if their owner had been suddenly called to final judgment. 

Just then, Dom felt the slight pull at his groin that typically accompanied his zipper being undone. He felt a weird sense of dislocation as he looked straight down to where young Steve was crouched at his feet, blithely reaching into Dom’s pants and cupping his holiest of holies.

Here, this was one of the big things that he needed to learn. Lesson numero uno: a guy wanted you, he didn’t do all that buy you a drink… or so tell me about yourself… kind of stuff. Guy wanted you, he just dropped to his knees and reached for your cock. Hmmmm. That was kind of a lot to digest all at once.

It took a split second for the heel of Dom’s palm to connect with Steve’s collarbone and stiff-arm him so hard that the hapless hustler measured his length back onto the thin carpet. It took another split second for Dom to regret it. _Shit_. 

Steve looked back up at him wide-eyed and scrambled backward, yanking a butterfly knife from his waistband and flipping it open with a shaking hand. Dom noted the long blade almost as an afterthought, the kid was way too scared to be much of a threat to him. In the tired 60-watt light, Steve’s pale chest gleamed with long scar, a jagged, half-moon tear that Dom recognized as the leftovers from a previous encounter with a broken bottle. Dom abruptly felt like something that had just crawled out of a sewer.

“Sorry,” Dom grunted and reflected that that wasn’t quite enough. “I’m really sorry. You surprised me.”

“I surprised you?” Steve’s voice was loud to cover his alarm. “Look, dude, is it not obvious just why I get invited to motel rooms? I mean what the hell is up? You don’t look like you’re about to yank out the pamphlets and start yakking about my life with Christ so just what the fuck is going on here?”

“I’m…” Dom suddenly noticed that there was a full-length mirror on one of the closet doors. He winced at his reflection. “I’m just…I’m trying…” 

“You’re not quite…sure?” Steve surmised. His pale blue eyes surreptitiously measured the distance to the door. “You’re experimenting? What?”

Dom opened his mouth to deny it and then realized that he had no fucking clue just what he was doing. Dom sat down heavily on the edge of the bed and in the space of one hundred and seven minutes told Steve the whole sorry story.

****

“So, you wanna get a pizza or something?” Roman asked. “Meet Tej at the club?”

“You go on,” Brian remembered at the last second to put an urging note in his voice. “I’ll be along in a little while.”

“You seen some honey you wanna make a little time with?” Roman scanned the crowd with a lascivious eye. 

Brian had already beeped the car open and slid behind the wheel. “Something like that. Catch you later.”

****

“Whoa,” Steve started when Dom had completely finished. “That’s…just…”

“Fucked up?” Dom was on his fourth Corona. Corona kept the words coming.

“No it’s…” Steve looked up from his perch on the floor. “It’s just…cool.”

“Cool?” Dom rubbed at his eyes. 

“Well, yeah, I mean…” Steve suddenly seemed at a loss. “I mean you drove 2500 miles through a country where you’re, like, a known felon because this dude gave you a car?”

And a look, Dom thought. He reached over and pulled another beer from the mini-fridge.

“You had no idea where he was?” Steve had asked this the first time disbelievingly, now he asked like he wanted to convince himself of something.

“Nope, just got lucky. People remembered him,” Dom remembered to give credit where credit was due. “This is all really stupid. I mean, I don’t even know if he’s…”

“A fag? Homo? Queer?” Steve’s eyes challenged Dom wryly.

“…that way,” Dom finished weakly.

“Look, I don’t mean to bust your chops.” Steve said kindly. “But if you were thinking that looking for him was hard…”

“I know. I get it,” Dom said miserably.

“You think you can trust your instincts?”

“Maybe,” Dom shrugged. “I guess.”

“He’s really hot?” Steve hazarded.

“He’s a fucking blowtorch,” Dom affirmed, glumly. “So he could probably have anyone.”

Steve grimaced. “C’mon, man. Don’t sell yourself short. You seem cool. You’re working that butch thing.”

For some reason, it was easier to talk to a…professional. “And…butch is good?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Butch is very good.”

Dom must have looked dubious because Steve struggled to reassure him. Steve was rolling his beer back and forth, not really drinking it.

“Well, I mean, you’re forgetting something.” Steve started, hesitantly. “I mean, sure, he may be gorgeous. He may look so fine that men, women and dogs all roll over for him, yeah. But…”

“But?” 

“Just ‘cause everybody wants you…doesn’t mean that anybody loves you.” 

Dom nearly spit out his beer. He managed not to by accidentally inhaling it. Steve smacked him on the back helpfully, while Dom tried to cough up his lungs.

“So what should I do?” Dom said when he could talk again. 

Steve rolled his eyes again. “Well, let me go out on a limb here: have you had a talk with the man in question?”

****

Brian drove in ever-widening circles out from the race, scanning the streets like a cop. His senses felt sharper than they had since he’d been floating in metal, crashing a car onto Carter Verone’s yacht. He kept the windows rolled down and the salty air made his hair sticky.

As he rolled along looking, he tumbled the memory around in his head, turning it this way and that to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. That his starved mind hadn’t just tried to wish Dom into being. 

He had to pull to a stop, while a crowd of pedestrians passed, drunk, young and beautiful, on their way to some club. One of the girls turned to stare at him, her cocoa skin looked like burnished gold in the streetlight’s glare. The heavy gleam of brown eyes blinked at him slowly. She vanished around the corner with a last flick of her eyelashes.

Lots of liquid brown eyes in this town. Lots of golden-brown skin. Easy to see what you desperately wanted to see.

He’d imagined it. 

****

“…and then you’re ready to go. So that’s not too hard, right?”

“I dunno,” Dom said skeptically. “Sounds like it hurts.”

“Jesus H. Christ!” Steve exploded. “Have you been listening at all? Look, it’s like anything else…”

Dom felt uncommonly defensive. “I’m just saying…”

Steve was holding his head like it hurt. “Forget it, man. Just…this is all…premature.” 

****

Brian parked up on del Coronado and walked down to the beach. The sand shushed against his Chucks. The moon was almost full, but the stars couldn’t compete with the light of the city. 

He sank down on his haunches right as the sand got damp. He crumbled the sand in his fingers idly, watching the surf without seeing it. 

Without the newness, without Bilkin’s adventure, this time in Miami felt like a holding pattern. A whole lot of time and a million ways to waste it. Brian considered wryly that he’d never had the right kind of ambition in the first place.

He mentally reviewed all the decisions he’d made just because they seemed like good ideas at the time. Boosting cars with Roman, that had been fun while it lasted. Becoming a cop, seemed more exciting and immediate than the military, better by far than twisting a wrench in Barstow for the rest of his life. Brian had known that it would drive a wedge between Rome and himself, but he’d naively assumed that it would be temporary. 

Transferring to L.A., that had seemed like a great idea. Making friends in the department, putting himself forward for all kinds of assignments, playing up his other skills…wasn’t that what you were supposed to do for a successful career? Wasn’t that how the American dream was supposed to work? 

Get a plum assignment, fall stupidly, desperately, insanely in love with your primary target who was not only a man, but also a heterosexual man and not only a felon, but also a dangerous felon. With dangerous enemies.

Brian had to admit, that one had sounded like an incredibly bad idea at the time.

But it had happened. 

His last decision in L.A., Brian couldn’t quite decide whether that one was good or bad. Give the keys to Dom, become a criminal, give up your life, flee. Come to Miami, get picked up, earn a ‘Get Out of Jail Free’ for you and a friend. _And for my next trick, I’m going to need a volunteer from the audience…_

Don’t give the keys to Dom, Dom goes to prison, if he doesn’t will himself to die first. You stay a cop, they give you a detective’s shield and both Roman and Dom rot in prison. 

Wasn’t too hard to prioritize when you put it like that. No one in prison was probably the best that could be expected. And yet, Brian was left wondering what he could have done differently so that he didn’t have to feel so achingly alone.

Brian shivered and wrapped his arms around his knees. He should be stuffing his face somewhere with Roman right now. He should be nicer to Rome, it was great having him around again. Rome was so. Uncomplicated. Brian shifted uneasily. He hadn’t been fair to Rome lately. Roman Pearce was his oldest and best friend, but Rome couldn’t do everything.

This ‘friendship with privileges’ that he’d developed over the long years with Roman felt like a drug addiction. He’d built up a tolerance for the affection that Rome could give him and he needed more and more just to get the same high. And Roman didn’t want to give him any more. Or he couldn’t. Or something. Roman could give him pleasure, but not joy.

Brian shivered again and felt the sudden urge to just get back in the car and go. He could be back in L.A. in forty hours if he never slept. He could probably get Tanner to find Mia. He could watch Mia, steal her phone bills out of her mailbox, find Dom somehow. 

He imagined himself showing up unannounced on Dom’s doorstep. Behind door number one, Dom embraced him and led him inside and the screen faded to black. Behind door number two, Dom made him swallow his own teeth. Maybe he was better off here, with whatever Roman decided he could spare.

Brian turned and looked back at the Skyline. He was proud of the work he’d done on that one. He’d had to rewire a new computer, replace the alternator, the battery and all the fuses. The bodywork alone had taken over a month. Lots of people had assured him that it wouldn’t ever run right again. But he’d done it.

Brian pondered the irony of having the fastest car in the city and having nowhere to go.

****

Dom drove Steve back to his crappy apartment as the sky was turning gray. Steve’s eyes widened as he fanned out the wad of cash that Dom pressed on him.

“Jeez…you sure about this? I didn’t even blow you.”

When Dom winced, Steve continued sarcastically. “See, that was a test. And you flunked.”

“Well, maybe I’ll get better with practice.” Dom was punchy with lack of sleep and now more amused than aggravated. 

“So what are you gonna say?” 

“Maybe I won’t say anything,” Dom grinned as Steve clapped him on the shoulder.

“Okay, so you’re not hopeless.”

“Thanks for all the advice.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m Oprah fucking Winfrey,” Steve said, shoving his way out of the car. “Good luck, man. I think he’s gonna be psyched to see you.”

“You know, Steve,” Dom stopped for a long second, he wasn’t sure if he should say this. “Why don’t you make yourself easier to find?”

Steve stopped halfway in and out of the car. He looked over his shoulder and the shadows under his eyes made him look a hundred years old.

“There’s no one looking for me, man.” Steve gave a little salute. “But it’s nice of you to say.”

****

“Tej?”

“Who’s this?”

“We met yesterday, …Victor from the garage?”

“Oh yeah. You catch that action last night?”

“Pretty intense. I wouldn’t mind putting my baby down by the silver Skyline. That’s not some flukey shit, is it?”

“Naw, Bullitt always delivers hardcore. He’s the man to beat around here. But the privilege don’t come cheap.”

“Well, you know I’m a well-dressed man.”

“Is that right?” Dom could hear Tej’s grin.

“Yeah, I’ve got deep pockets.”

“That’s what we like to hear. See you tonight.”

****

“Hey.”

“Tej, what’s the deal, bro?”

“You up to go it again tonight?”

“Awwww, Tej….I am beat through the band and back. I’m taking off tonight.”

“You race tonight, you can take off the week.” 

“You’re very generous with my time,” Brian replied dryly.

“Bri, since when do you not like money?” Tej started to wheedle. “C’mon, this dude’s new and he don’t know you. It’ll be candy-from-a-baby time.”

“What’s he run?”

“Well,” Tej paused. “The body is from an old Superbird…but after that, it’s your best guess.” 

****

Rome hid his yawn behind his cupped hands. It wasn’t so late, but it had been an exciting day. He’d unexpectedly found one of his ‘clients’ away and had managed to repossess the man’s yacht without fight or fuss. He was growing to love his job, mostly for the opportunity to sail stolen boats around the bay. Opportunities like that had been thin on the ground in Barstow.

Brian had caught the yawn and grinned at Rome over Suki’s head, going cross-eyed for a second until Rome had to laugh at the goof. Brian looked tired himself. Rome flipped him off and leered back at him, hoping that his worry didn’t show in his eyes. Brian shouldn’t race tired. It’d be too damn easy to make a bad mistake. He punched Brian, knuckles out, in the shoulder and tightened up until Brian punched him back. Maria laughed at them.

Rome turned to Tej, “So how much time we got?”

Tej shrugged, “Say half-hour.”

Brian said lazily, “You think this guy is lost?”

Tej was clever about utilizing road construction for race sites. Showing a surprising amount of foresight, Dade County scheduled all their road work for the wee hours. Rome couldn’t even begin to imagine how Tej had bribed or blackmailed someone to give them this half-hour between the road closing and the work crews arriving. 

Now they were down in this swank area on the causeway between the city and the beach. Waiting in a parking lot. For some new dude that Tej had lined up for Brian.

“Maybe he’s pussied out,” Rome volunteered.

Tej shook his head, “Didn’t seem like the type.” He looked to Suki for agreement.

Suki lifted her chin at an approaching rumble. A car pulled up slowly past the assembled rice rockets, a bigger, older car. Like a heavyweight making his way into a cruiserweight ring.

Rome couldn’t see the driver. The car was glassed darker than a rap star’s SUV. Illegal, yeah, but it looked like most of the car was illegal. Plymouth Superbird ’69, good choice, pretty rare. Intensely geeked up with a fancy hood intake, side ports and racing stripe. Rome knew that if the guy pressed his foot down for a rev, it would drown out all their voices. American muscle.

Brian grinned and wiggled his eyebrows at Rome, hearkening back to their little tag-team on those bozos with the Yenko and the Dodge. Heh. That had been fun.

“How much you want off him?” Rome asked softly.

“How much you think you can get?” Brian teased. Brian slid into the Skyline and cool, hey, they were ready for business. 

Tej had gestured all his people up off the line, giving the racers a clear path out of the lot and back onto the causeway. Lights twinkled off the bay and the slap of water against pilings mingled with the voices and stereos.

The Plymouth pulled up to the right of the Skyline with no hesitation. Whoever this guy was, he’d done this before. Rome felt a flash of renewed worry for Brian. Brian had had a long streak, but everyone got beaten sometime. Brian didn’t look worried though, he just looked at the black windowpane with that I’m-too-cool-for-you, California-boy smirk.

Then the window rolled down and everything changed.

****

This was the moment, Dom decided. 

This was the moment when he was going to find out if this whole journey had been one enormous waste of time. He rolled down his window next to the Skyline, knowing that the right-hand drive would put him within three feet of Brian’s face. Close enough to see everything, he hoped. 

Brian’s face was curiously blank for what felt like a long moment. And then he smiled.

Dom felt as though he’d stepped off a ledge between one long heartbeat and the next. Fallen into a beautiful world that was populated only by himself. And Brian, smiling, like he’d just learned how.

****

This was just all too fucking weird.

Rome had stepped up to the car to start joshing the challenger into betting the house. He’d registered the details of the man’s serious face quickly, the shaved head, the broad shoulders. Rome had tried to meet Brian’s eyes to gauge what kind of cash they might hope to pull off this mother, only to find Brian grinning at the stranger like an idiot.

Brian was smiling that smile of his that made the air feel a few degrees warmer. The smile so wide that it was almost a laugh. The smile that Brian usually wore just seconds before he did something incredibly life-endangering. 

Rome turned back to look harder at the stranger, who obviously wasn’t a complete stranger. Rome suspected he was biracial, but it was hard to tell for sure. Big nose, wide lips, brown eyes that looked intelligent and resourceful. Not handsome in the conventional sense, as Roman knew himself to be. But an interesting face. 

The man wore a peculiar expression. Most people who saw Brian’s smile, they smiled back unconsciously. It was catching. But the man’s face reminded Roman of a little boy who’d stubbed his toe, too old to cry, but too hurt to laugh.

“Hey,” Rome said. “Hey!”

Both sets of eyes turned toward him unwillingly.

“We gonna do this?”

Two sets of eyes blinked at him. 

****

“They’ve been working on the A1A…” Tej started.

Brian shifted uncomfortably but he didn’t say anything. 

“So we borrowed some of their cones. I thought we’d do it old-school tonight. I was thinking, short track down the causeway, bridge…exit Alton Road…finish the second block up.”

“You got people there?” the challenger asked.

“Yup. Plus we’ll be right behind you.” Tej said.

By this time, Brian was unconsciously shaking his head. 

“You got a problem with that, Bullitt?” Tej asked evenly. “All of a sudden, the iceman is melting?”

Yeah, Rome thought. That’s a damn good question.

Brian seemed like he was going to protest, but then he looked back at the stranger and came to some internal decision. He stopped fidgeting. 

“Watch out for that last turn.” Brian advised. “It’s a bitch.”

“Thanks,” The challenger looked like he would have said more, but Roman cut in.

“So pony up, homeboy, we don’t do this shit for our health.”

“So what’s your health worth?’ 

Roman shared a look with the stranger for the first time. The guy’s eyes were determinedly neutral, but Rome had instincts honed in prison. Roman could see that this man, on five minutes acquaintance, didn’t really like him very much.

“We usually go about three-five,” Tej started.

“But make it four, y’know, so we know you’re serious,” Rome was unrelenting. 

The stranger didn’t flinch, “Make it five,” he said mildly, tossing five grand in a clip at Roman like Rome was some kind of exotic dancer.

Rome kept himself from kicking this arrogant asshole in the head by reminding himself that Brian would beat this fool. Then they would go have some chile rellenos and Brian would insist that Rome take some small commission for his invaluable services as a promoter. And that would be that.

Rome turned and took the same from Brian who still wasn’t looking at him. Rome handed the money to Tej and motioned Maria into his car.

****

Dom felt like they were racing underwater.

He couldn’t hear the screech of their tires, the high whirr of the Skyline, the low drumming that was his own engine catching hold. And though he knew that they’d both hit sixty in the first five seconds, it felt like time was stretching for them, expanding the moment.

The causeway stretched in front of them perfectly straight. Edged by a thin strip of water on both sides, like an arrow pointed directly at Miami Beach. They had all three lanes to themselves.

Dom knew that he could lay it down and edge in front, make Brian use his nitrous prematurely. That would be the conventional tactic. It was more fun to do what they were doing, pull up on 90, 95, 100, side by side. Inches apart, playing some sideways chicken. Brian wouldn’t let go of Dom’s eyes. Dom could have stretched out his arm and stroked Brian’s shoulder with the tips of his fingers.

Brian caught a slight rut and they nearly traded paint. Brian glanced forward and raised two fingers from the wheel. Dom took the bait and looked forward to where Brian was pointing. A sign flashed by, Alton Road, the 907, their exit. Dom’s gaze tracked up, up, up, oh shit, they can’t be serious. The exit was an overpass that arched across the sky like a bow. One lane across with a slight curve edged by a high steel median. It looked like a roller coaster. And they were about to hit it at Mach 2. He glanced over at Brian again. For some reason, imminent destruction didn’t look so bad mirrored in Brian’s clear eyes.

Brian smiled at him, a tiny secret smile. Then he turned his eyes forward and suddenly tapped it down and scissored in front of the Plymouth and up the ramp. And before he knew it, Dom was roaring up behind him, inches from his tail.

With gravity pushing his head back on the seat, Dom did something that he hadn’t done in living memory. He eased up off the accelerator. If he hadn’t known that it would make the Plymouth judder back and forth into the guardrails, he would have tapped the brake. In the split seconds that they had, he could envision what would happen. They were almost to the crest of the ramp which was an easy deceleration at 35 miles per hour. At their speed, they would catch air. Physics would throw the Plymouth forward much faster than the Skyline and if he didn’t rear-end Brian in mid-air, Dom would come down hard on the Skyline’s rear bumper. Maybe hard enough to make it flip on its end, back onto the Plymouth. 

But now he was a yard away from Brian, six yards, ten yards, fifteen. Brian was airborne and Dom could hear him whooping. Dom’s stomach jerked upward as all four tires seemed to get spring-loaded. He was sailing through the air and he tightened his hands on the wheel. He was going to hit Brian, wait, no, he wasn’t. The tires grabbed earth again and Dom’s head slammed into the roof, hard enough to rattle his teeth in his jaws. The Skyline danced just ahead of him.

The pain in his head made him wince, the ebb of adrenaline made him limp, but suddenly Dom felt fucking fantastic. Brian thought he had won, that was obvious. He was slowing before the line. Dom grinned to himself, shoved his foot down and punched the spray. Dom caught a nanosecond of Brian’s startled glance as Dom’s engine bellowed past him and crossed the line with two feet of hood leading.

****

Brian stood silently as Tej handed Dom the wad of cash. Dom took it, tucked his original bet away and tossed Brian his stake back. 

“You don’t want it?” Roman’s voice rang with challenge and disbelief.

“No.” 

“You made the bet, man, fair’s fair,” Rome shrugged.

“You made the bet,” Dom turned a hard stare on Roman. “Wasn’t what I was in it for. And he knows that.” Curling a finger at Brian.

Brian said, soft enough that only Rome and Tej overheard, “You want my car?” 

“I want your respect,” Dom returned, equally soft.

Déjà vu all over again, they could stand like this in the stunned crowd and Brian had eyes only for Dom. The dozens of conversations around him had been reduced to static. Dom looked as cool as ever, as if there wasn’t already a lifetime’s worth of pain, betrayal, murder and mayhem between them. Dom was right here, standing by his car, like his presence wasn’t just fucking miraculous. Talking like they weren’t surrounded by a mob of curious people. The silence stretched.

“You know, I’ve come a long way…” Dom leaned in until his chin was next to Brian’s shoulder. “…aren’t you gonna…invite me to lunch or something?”

Brian shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from just grabbing Dom and shoving him into the car. It came to him then, the perfect thing to say.

Brian pulled out his business card (thanks, Rome!) and tucked it into the breast pocket of Dom’s shirt. “Come by tomorrow. My treat.”

It could have been just a trick of the uncertain light, but Brian was sure that Dom’s eyes had flashed then. Dom had tilted his chin down, suddenly looking a hundred times more predatory. And a thousand times sexier. 

Dom nodded and sank back into his ride. Drove off without a word for anyone else. 

Roman was in his face within seconds. “Who the hell was that, Brian? And why’d you let him win?”

“I didn’t,” Brian gave Rome a little shove to show that he wasn’t playing. “I gotta go.”

****

“Hey!” Brian hoped he didn’t look like a person who’d been watching the door obsessively for the past two hours.

“Hey.” Dom pulled at his t-shirt nervously.

Dom seemed to relax a little when he stepped out of the sun into the shade of the modest garage. He moved around easily, touching Brian’s tools. “This all yours?”

“Yup,” Brian tried to look unself-conscious. 

“You got the warranty on those, right?” Dom pointed at the lifts.

“The standard, yeah? You think I should have gotten more?”

“Nah, a couple of the Forward 9000s had a design flaw, but you’ll know soon. A year is enough.” Dom nodded to himself.

Brian looked at Dom sideways to make sure he wouldn’t disappear like a hologram.

“That was a good race last night,” Brian had to turn away to mask his grimace, haven’t seen him for a year and that’s the best you can do, dipshit?

“Pretty sick,” Dom agreed and Brian sensed a hint of relief rolling off him. “You’d have won if you hadn’t gotten cocky.”

“Yeah, I assumed whoever had the ramp would have the race,” Brian agreed. “And if it had been anyone else, I’d have been right.”

Dom chuckled. Brian grinned.

“You scared the shit out of me,” Dom confessed. “Being scared makes me mad and when I’m mad, I get…vengeful.”

“Yeah, really? Is that why you’re here?” Brian decided to jump right in with it.

“Uhhh, no,” Dom knocked a wrench off a tray and the clank seemed loud in the silence. Dom bent down to pick it up and just kind of…stayed down. He looked perplexed.

“So you didn’t come all this way out of some residual cop-hatred?” Brian couldn’t quite believe that he could make himself sound so cool and indifferent.

“Are you still a cop?”

“No, I’m…” Brian looked around the garage, noticing suddenly how he’d unconsciously modeled it on Dom’s old place. “Free and clear.”

“Free and clear, huh?” Dom repeated. 

“Yeah, I squared it somehow,” Brian shrugged. “It’s a long story.”

Dom just looked at him and Brian felt moved to explain. “So they won’t arrest me but I can’t arrest you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Dom sat back on his heels for a long moment, and then rose slowly to his feet. “That’s not what I was thinking. Seems like if you were gonna do that, there were better times to do it.” 

Dom twisted the wrench in his hands for a long moment and then set it down gently. Dom took a couple of purposeful steps toward Brian and Brian braced himself against the Chevelle. Dom’s voice sounded…weird. “So, no, that’s not what I came for.”

Brian was opening his mouth to ask, yeah, so what then? but suddenly he was getting washed by a wave of Dom’s pure attention. Dom was standing pretty close and his heat and scent were making it hard to think.

“Well, what have we here?”

Oh shit. Roman.

Dom took a short step back and pivoted to face Rome’s sneer. Brian straightened quickly and pushed himself off the car.

“Hey, big homie. Decided you want your money today?” Brian could see where Rome’s shoulders were flexed. Like an angry cat. “Too damn bad.”

Dom paused for a long second, like he was trying to decide whether or not Rome was serious.   
“I’m not here for money.”

“What are you here for then?” 

Dom deadpanned, “Lunch.”

Rome snorted with disbelief. “This that dude from LA, Brian?”

“Well, he’s a dude from LA,” Brian hoped that snark and sarcasm would maybe be enough to get them out of here without…whatever. At the moment, Dom still looked puzzled by Roman’s antagonism, not pissed off. Cool.

“You come out to say, ‘thanks’ to the boy here, for helping you dodge the law?” Roman had leaned onto another car and looked like he wasn’t going to budge. “That’s real sweet. You’re welcome, don’t mention it, buh-bye.”

“As I was saying…” Dom turned back to Brian, moving his body only slightly, but managing to convey a truckload of disdain. Rome’s eyes sparked like a livewire. Brian suddenly desperately wished he could pull each of them aside for 20 seconds. Look, Dom, the one thing that Roman just hates is being ignored. 

Rome interrupted. “Look, homes, you want to cut him in on a job, that’s cool, but he can’t go getting in trouble. We just got out of trouble, you feeling me?”

“I’m not here to cause trouble.” Dom’s voice was very soft. Brian knew that the softer and lower Dom’s voice got, the higher the likelihood that one of the three of them would leave bruised. He tried to head it off.

“Rome,” Brian said sharply. “He’s here to see me, not you, cuz.”

“So?”

“So chill out, man! Mind your business!”

“Shut up, Brian!” 

“Hey,” Dom’s voice suddenly had a hot edge that it hadn’t had before. “Don’t you tell him to shut up.”

Roman rolled his eyes and started to advance on Dom, “Tell him what I want to tell him, ‘cause I’ve earned the right, boy. Don’t you start thinking that I give a shit about your opinion, you pigeon-toed, high-yellow…”

Whatever else Roman might have been planning to say was knocked back down his throat so fast that Brian didn’t even see it happening. Rome stumbled two steps backwards, clutching his mouth. Brian’s heart plummeted, _Dom doesn’t ‘do’ trash-talk, Rome_.

Dom had followed up quick with a snarl and another fist raised. Dom sure hadn’t seemed to like that little ‘high-yellow’ crack and seemed intent on discovering what color Roman was on the inside. But Dom stopped for a second and glanced back at Brian, almost apologetically.

Roman used the moment to jump on Dom’s back and rocket a blow into the side of Dom’s chin. Dom bent double under the weight and staggered, knocking the tray of wrenches down with a fierce metallic clatter. Dom straightened up and then arched forward with purpose, throwing Roman to the ground. Dom stepped over Roman’s body and leaned in for another vicious punch. Rome kicked Dom on the side of the knee hard enough to make him grunt and half-collapse. Rome followed up with a head-butt and they became a sudden flurry of arms and legs on the floor. 

Brian was frozen, speechless with horror. It was like watching dogs fighting. There didn’t appear to be any rules. Brian watched with the sick realization that these two had a collective five years in prison and neither of them had been real sweethearts to begin with. Brian wished desperately for a hose. Or a net, maybe. Reaching for one of them, through their unseeing rage, seemed like a mistake.

Rome managed to break free and rolled up to his feet, lightning-quick. He turned back to hammer down on the kneeling Dom. Dom lowered his chin and pushed forward to tackle Rome and force him backward onto the Chevelle. Rome kneed Dom in the diaphragm and bought himself a little distance. Rome twisted and slid his arm around to pull Dom into a choke hold. Dom straightened up to his full height and began worming his hands under Rome’s bicep while backing up to where Brian stood.

Roman was having a tough time keeping his balance. When Dom had straightened, Rome had been lifted free of the floor. Now Rome was struggling to keep his grip and not get plowed under. Suddenly, Dom wrapped his fist around Rome’s wrist and wrenched himself free of the chokehold. It happened so fast that Brian didn’t have time to step back or duck.

Both sets of elbows swung into his face like twin baseball bats. Brian felt the white-red pain and heard the slight crunch at almost the same time. He squeezed his eyes shut as a hot iron-flavored cascade washed down the back of his throat. Brian cupped his hands around his broken nose and leaned forward. He dimly registered that the fight had stopped and looked up.

Both Rome and Dom stared at him helplessly, like he was some prized toy they had broken. Rome was bleeding from the mouth, Dom was bleeding from a cut above his eye and Brian was almost gushing from his nose. In that moment he hated them, as much as hated the sudden thickening of his voice. 

“I’b going to ged dis fixed,” Brian turned and hawked a glob of blood on the floor before striding away. “And you can bodth go fuck off and die.”

****

In the end, of course, they wouldn’t let him drive. Dom came out and tentatively gestured at the Plymouth and Brian found it hard to argue while his mouth kept filling with blood. Rome slid into the backseat and his eyes dared Dom to say anything. They drove in silence. Rome started to mumble something, but shut up when Brian threw a handful of blood at him.

“Sorry aboud dis,” Brian gestured to where Dom’s front passenger mat was getting kind of gory.

Dom waved it off with an embarrassed little frown. He looked into the rearview and caught Rome’s eye. “Hey, you, you know a place to go?’

Rome’s lip twisted in disgust, it seemed like he was about to spit out something poisonous. But then Rome glanced at Brian’s bent profile and sighed, “Yeah, turn right up here.”

****

They found the tired-looking county hospital quickly. Brian tried to outpace them but they stayed in his shadow all the way inside. Brian stood at the check-in counter and tried not to bleed on it. A young Latina in scrubs silently handed him a clipboard and a gauze pad. He took both gratefully, relieved to be spared conversation. She raised the tiniest hint of an eyebrow at his entourage. Already, mothers in the waiting room were whispering to their bug-eyed children not to stare.

He finished the forms and handed the clipboard back. Waiting through her silent review, he noticed that he’d soaked the gauze.

“You’re not insured, Mr. O’Conner?” 

Roman popped into her face like a jack-in-the-box. “Hey, look, the man is hurt. The man is bleeding, see that? So why you gotta…”

Dom’s voice cut in behind him. “You still accept cash payment for services, isn’t that right?” 

Her eyebrows arched higher at the sudden fan of bills. She seemed to make a quick executive decision. “Curtain two.”

****

The doctor gave him a bedpan before she reset his nose. “If you need to puke,” she offered helpfully. He was opening his mouth to ask her what she meant, when she lined both thumbs over his cheekbones and he found out exactly what she was talking about.

He fought down the nausea by listening hard to the half-assed conversation taking place on the bench outside the curtain. He could hear Rome muttering to himself. He could hear Dom ostentatiously ignoring Rome. 

“So is that all the money you got?” Rome suddenly burst out. 

Brian winced and the doctor apologized softly. “No, it’s fine, it’s not you,” Brian murmured.

A long moment of silence passed on the other side of the curtain until Dom said, “No.” Very quietly.

“Good,” said Roman, unexpectedly.

Silence for a few more minutes. The doctor seemed like she was coming to the end of the gauze and tape.

“What’s your name?” Rome asked.

“Dominic Toretto.” 

“And you let people call you Dom?” Roman said nastily.

“You let people call you Rome, huh?” Dom sounded like he was just making conversation. Brian wanted to snort, but held it in.

“Fuck you,” Rome snapped. 

“Fuck me?” Dom’s voice was going dangerous-quiet again.

“Hey!” Brian raised his voice a little and the doctor stepped back with surprise. “Both of you shut the fuck up.”

“Good advice,” muttered the doctor, half to herself. “Well, Mr. O’Conner. I think we’re done here. You don’t need a script, you can just take ibuprofen. You can take these bandages off yourself. Are your…friends going to need any stitches or anything?”

She snapped the curtain back on the sheepish Dom and Rome. 

“We’re fine,” they said in unison.

****

“You look like shit,” Rome said, tactfully. 

Brian wished he had some appropriately nasty body fluid to fling at Roman. He settled for just giving him the finger.

“Your eye’s going black,” Rome continued.

Brian looked sideways at Dom. Christ, now even doing that hurt. Brian wanted to go crawl into a darkened room and sleep until this whole afternoon felt like a dream.

“You look tough. Like a boxer,” Dom and that quiet voice were killing Brian. In a nice way.

“The Great White Hope,” Rome snorted. Rome seemed oblivious to the fact that his own split lip made him look like a fish.

Dom nodded to himself, “Very butch.”

Brian leaned back and closed his eyes.

****

He opened his eyes as the back door slammed. They were back at the scene of the crime. Dom had turned the car off and was looking after the retreating Roman like he would look at a particularly nettlesome carburetor. 

Dom turned back to Brian. Brian could see the slight dimples that framed Dom’s almost-smiling mouth and his fingers itched to touch.

“Can we try this again?” Dom’s cut was swelling.

“Tomorrow,” Brian said with a confidence he didn’t feel. He levered himself out of the car.


	3. Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dominic Toretto: Do you know what you’re doing?
> 
> -The Fast and the Furious
> 
> Roman Pearce: Brian, you’re crazy, man. What the hell are you doing?
> 
> -2Fast 2Furious

“What the hell is wrong with you, Rome?”

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me?” Rome stopped glaring at the Edelbrock poster and turned to Brian, incredulous. “What’s the deal with you and this fool, why’s he come out here, wanting to mess with our shit?”

Brian spoke through his teeth. “Well, I would’ve asked him if you had given me a little time before you started World War Three...”

“I started?” Rome pointed at his mouth. “Didn’t look that way to me, bro.”

“I’d say that calling him high yellow was pretty fucking out of line.”

“Brother knows what he is,” Rome jutted out his chin belligerently.

Brian clenched his fists and actually stuttered with rage before he could speak, “Why. The. Fuck. Do. You. Care? And when did you start thinking that I did?”

Rome touched his split lip with his tongue but didn’t wince. For a second, he turned his head away from Brian’s anger.

“Why do you look at him like that?” 

Brian stepped around to make Rome look him in the face. “Like what?”

For one moment, Rome’s eyes shifted up to Brian, unguarded. Rome opened his mouth and then just shook his head. Rome blinked and the old fury was back. Rage stiffened Rome’s strut as he stalked out of the garage without another word.

****

At 12:01 pm on Tuesday afternoon, the R n' B garage was a zoo. Dom pulled carefully into the tiny lot that sparkled with chrome. Roman was screwing spacers between the rear wheels of some hopped-up Honda, muttering to himself. Dom wondered if twenty-four hours was enough time, figured it probably wasn’t and got out of the car anyway.

A couple of teenagers were standing around trying to look cool and unfidgety. Dom walked up while Brian was trying to placate some weekend racer who appeared to have his head firmly up his ass. 

“…What do you mean, you won’t?” The kid looked to be all of 18 and every inch a rich poseur. “It’s physically possible, but you won’t? What the fuck is this shit? What happened to the customer is always right? What happened to…”

The white tape across Brian’s nose looked like a flag of surrender. Just fifteen seconds of this kid and Dom already felt tired. Brian caught Dom’s eye over the hood of the Eclipse GS-T hardtop and mouthed neon. Dom smirked internally. With the expensive ground effects that the kid had already saddled on his little toy, it only had about four inches of clearance. Looked like he’d cut his coil springs. 

Dom interposed himself mid-rant. “Be pretty irresponsible to kit this baby up with underlights.”

The kid turned and raked his eyes up Dom. By the time he got to Dom’s face, he looked thoroughly confused. “What?”

Dom spoke low, but very clearly, since obviously this kid wasn’t too bright. “You’d lose ‘em on the first speed bump. Or pothole.”

The kid looked exasperated. “Yeah, that’s what he said.” Gesturing to Brian as if Brian was his disapproving dad. “Why can’t we just…”

“Plus there’s the weight, which you really don't need.” Dom went on as if he hadn’t heard. “You know, if I had the money for neon, I’d do something about my exhaust system. And not just…extend my tailpipe.” Dom looked down at the kid’s tailpipe as if it was a low-down, dirty shame.

At least the kid had enough good sense to look abashed. “Well, I mean…what kind of Gs are we talking about here?” he mumbled.

Kids like this, you couldn’t go wrong casting vague aspersions on their masculinity. “Well, do you just want to look pretty…or actually, you know, go fast?” 

Before the kid could get his back up, Dom said, “You think about it. I’m just gonna have a word with the boss man here.” 

“Thanks,” Brian muttered as they got out of earshot. “He’s been busting my chops for almost ten minutes.”

“Rice boys,” Dom shrugged. “We were all newbies once.”

“Yeah, yeah. Except you.” Brian grinned. He didn’t stop grinning when Dom whapped him on the shoulder. Not hard, just enough to ruffle his feathers a little.

“So can you take a break?” Dom asked, already knowing the answer.

“Dude, they’re killing me here.” Brian gestured helplessly at the row of cars. “I can’t stir a step today.” 

“That’s cool,” Dom said, trying to mask his own disappointment. Brian didn’t need to know quite yet how little he’d slept counting the hours down to this moment. Rome had straightened up and was looking mutinously at the unoffending Honda. Dom decided to cut right to the chase. 

Brian offered, “I usually order in when it gets like this…”

“I’ll go get something for you.” Dom turned on Roman. “You wanna go?”

Roman cocked his head and scratched meaningfully at the seamed cut on his lip. He glanced back and forth from Brian to Dom as if trying to gauge if this was some kind of trick. Finally, he squared his shoulders and said, “Yeah, why not?”

Brian stayed in the rearview until they turned the block, looking kind of dubious and hopeful. 

Rome curled into the seat with his back to the door of the Plymouth, glaring at Dom, rolling his eyes and kind of muttering to himself. Dom tapped his thumbs on the steering wheel and took an even breath. It was like a contest to see who could keep the tightest rein on their cool. 

Dom remembered a sunny Saturday when his dad had pulled out a win at a race where he’d been seriously outclassed. He could almost feel the heat on the back of his neck and smell the exhaust. He remembered the white of his dad’s smile when he’d leaned down and explained how he’d thrown caution to the winds and dived for the corners. Dominic, if you can’t beat ‘em straight out, you’ve got to do what they don’t expect.

So make an overture. Best to start with a statement that no one could disagree with.

“You don’t like me much.” 

Roman widened his eyes and almost smiled. He started out very deliberately. “No, where’d you get that idea?” Then his face hardened and he continued. “Maybe I fucking despise you, G.” 

Dom knew that Roman expected him to screech to a halt and mix it up just a little. He could see Rome bracing himself even now. He let Rome stew a bit as he kept driving. “So why is that?”

“People come, no warning, being all coy and casual and shit…” Roman addressed this to the dashboard, spiking Dom with sideways glances. “I don’t have to think something’s up. I know something’s up.”

“No warning?” Dom mused. “What, you think I should’ve called first?”

Roman ignored that and continued. “I don’t know what went down in L.A. and I don’t wanna know. All I wanna know is that your bitch ass is not going to be fucking Brian’s shit up. That’s it. That’s the deal.”

Dom was quiet for a few more minutes until Roman was practically vibrating with tension. Roman didn’t seem to like the quiet. Roman had done his best to provoke him, now it was Dom’s turn. 

Dom said calmly. “Is that the real reason, or just what you’re telling yourself?”

Rome just oozed rage. “What the fuck are you talking about?” 

“He’s free, white and 21. He can take care of himself. You’re not married, so why are you tripping?”

For a long moment, Dom was sure that Roman was about to reach over and punch him until he was cross-eyed. Rome looked like he was chewing on the inside of his mouth and mentally trying to hog-tie his temper. Trying very hard not to smirk, Dom pulled up to a burger palace. They ordered and waited in silence until they got the food. It wasn’t until they were back on the road that Roman spoke again.

“He’s my friend,” Roman said with great restraint. “You fuck with him and I will strangle you with your own dick.”

“Okay, I’ll write that down somewhere so I don’t forget,” Dom said without masking his sarcasm. “I’ve had friends too, y’know. I know how it is.”

“Yeah, but me n’ Brian go back. We’ve been friends for a while, yo.” Rome snarled. “Like our entire lives.”

“Strikes me as you’re more than friends.” 

Rome leaned back on the upholstery like he was just about to pull the pin from a verbal grenade. He was ready to detonate, when Dom continued. “You’re more like brothers, right?”

Somehow, that sucked the juice right out of Rome. He tightened his face and turned away. “Yeah, man. It’s like that.”

“I’ve had brothers too,” Dom asserted. 

They drove in taut silence for a while. Rome wasn’t bristling with anger anymore, but something in his face still looked unsatisfied. 

“You got something you wanna say?” Dom wondered if he’d regret this.

Rome jiggled his head impatiently. Rome sat facing him, leaning on the door with his eyes narrowed in that way that made him look so exotic and dangerous. “Your quarter panels aren’t steel.”

Dom tried not to grin. “Hood’s not either.”

Rome rolled his eyes, “Why? How? How did you manage this?”

“You got the funds, you can manage quite a bit.” Dom suddenly realized that he sounded like an asshole, so he continued quickly. “Outside of Ensenada, there’s a factory that does some piecework for Honda. Aluminum, fiberglass, even carbon fiber. They’ll do custom work too, for the right price.” 

Rome snorted appreciatively and rolled his hand. “So, again, why?”

“Technically, every pound you cut gives you an extra six horsepower.” Dom explained. “And with a rig this size…”

“Shit, you did all that for weight?” Rome looked at Dom with disbelief. “You may be crazy, you realize that? Seriously insane.”

Then Rome looked thoughtful, as if he could picture the possibilities. “What does it do to your torque?”

****

Brian looked relieved when they showed up with greasy bags, both still standing.

They ate at the battered card table after Brian had cleared away all the purchase orders and invoices. 

“So what have you got left?” Dom asked after they’d taken the edge off.

Brian ticked off on his fingers. “New Tremec gearbox for this Camaro which I’ve done before, it’s just time-consuming…”

“…Unless we have to shorten the driveshaft,” said Roman gloomily.

Brian rolled his eyes. “You’ve gotta finish that Honda.”

“I’m on it.” Rome snapped. “And we got to switch out the headers on that dude’s Viper.”

Brian rubbed his eyes carefully around his bandage. He leaned back until his chair was almost at a 120º angle and balanced there.

“Wow.” Dom leaned back himself and relaxed every muscle in his face. “Sounds like you could use some help.”

Brian quirked up one side of his lip and looked over at Roman. Pure rebellion warred with the desire to finish before sundown in Rome’s eyes. He scowled at Dom while wolfing down the last of his burger, but when he finished chewing, he just shrugged like he really didn’t give a rip.

“I’ll help you bolt on that gearbox,” Dom offered Brian quietly and Brian’s smile went turbocharged.

They didn’t have to shorten the driveshaft or move the firewall. Brian was re-tightening the subframe and Dom was screwing in the faceplate just as the sky got pink. After they finished, Brian ambled off, proclaiming his intention to scare up some beer.

“You’re not gonna be the boss, comprende?” Roman muttered at Dom’s back.

Dom turned and smiled his most charming smile. “Cool with me.”

****

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Brian hoped his voice didn’t still sound goofy, slightly nasal around the swelling. He’d spent most of the past two evenings communing with painkillers, arnica and a bag of frozen peas. 

After the greetings, the conversation petered out. Brian picked at the switch of his drill while Dom twirled his keychain. Both of them stared like they were getting hypnotized. 

Dom broke the silence. “So you wanna grab a bite?” He scratched himself behind the ear.

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Brian looked for a rag to wipe his hands. “What are you thinking?”

Dom shrugged. “Tamales? They any good around here?”

Recognizing his cue, Rome popped out of the utility room that they were using for an office. “Y’all going to eat?”

Dom started, tentatively. “Looks that way.”

Brian offered, “You want us to bring you anything?”

Roman canted his head and glared at them. “I’m coming with, fool. Ain’t waiting for your sorry ass to bring me cold food. Liliana’s got the best tamales.”

“Rome…” Brian started and then trailed off, unsure of how to finish. Brian wasn’t jazzed about the prospect of a repeat performance of the day before yesterday and he had no idea how to handle the new Roman Pearce. Rome had showed up at the garage this morning early for the first time, well, ever. Lacking a car project, Brian had set him to call customers for pick-ups and Rome hadn’t even bitched about it. It was eerie. 

Rome was giving him a defiant look. Brian glanced at Dom.

“The more, the merrier,” Dom said in a voice that almost sounded sincere. ‘So where is this Liliana’s?”

****

Dom wanted to be cool, to talk coolly and easily and give out a nice, friendly vibe. He didn’t want to come across as sullen as Mr. boyz in the ‘hood over there. They had gotten their food and drinks and managed to snag one of the round concrete picnic tables next to the beach. There was a distinct advantage to a round table where Brian could sit between them. The disadvantage was that the half-moon benches didn’t move and they could barely fit their knees under so they had to sit sideways. Dom decided to ignore Rome’s glare and he tried to ignore the happy little part of his brain that noted that Brian was facing him. Pretty damn childish, man.

“So how’d you find me?” Brian started after they’d each killed a tamale.

Dom shrugged. “Sounds like the cops found you, didn’t they?”

“Cops have resources.” Brian didn’t give an inch.

“So do I,” Dom didn’t feel he could explain. It still didn’t make sense. Plus it felt kind of cool to play mysterious. 

“So, uh, you got pretty popular in L.A. for a while,” Dom had practiced for a while to make this sound tactful. “Mia said you made the news twice.”

Brian pulled one side of his mouth up. It could have been a grin. “Twice, huh? Let me guess ‘Fugitive cop sighted in Texas’?”

Roman swallowed an enormous bite and looked at Brian appraisingly.

Dom continued, “Yeah, something like that. With your picture and everything.”

“How often did you make the news?” Brian asked his tamale. 

Dom leaned back from his food a little. “Funny thing about that…”

“Yeah?” Brian asked offhandedly.

“Yeah, real funny. Not much manhunt came our way. Which considering we’d ditched two shot- up cars that were covered in fingerprints, seemed like more luck than I’ve got.”

Brian leaned back and regarded Dom seriously. “Well, you know they probably went to an impound lot.” Brian glanced at Rome before he continued. “And the damndest things can happen in impound lots…”

For some reason, this made Roman loose a short bark of laughter.

“Oh, really?” Dom leaned back.

Brian shrugged. “I had friends, y’know.”

Dom took a sip of his soda to process this. Another reminder that Brian had left every last thing he had to hand Dom his keys. He drained his cup.

Rome was looking at Brian sourly. “These friends you didn’t have three and a half years ago, huh?”

Brian cut his eyes at Roman and his voice had a sudden ferocity. “Obviously not. Three years makes a difference, yeah?”

OK, there was history there that Dom would have to figure out. Though in view of some of the ink stretched across Roman’s biceps, he could make a pretty good guess. 

****

This shit was seriously on Roman’s last nerve. It was like he was on the phone with his family, getting the story piecemeal, backwards and from a dozen different angles. He just wanted to get big homie alone and convince him to quit looking at Brian like that. Get Brian to just spill the beans on this dude and quit being so mysterious. Or something.

“So how did you get ‘free and clear’?” Dom asked before Roman could say anything. Brian looked at Roman and Roman rolled his eyes. Brian could explain.

“Well, there was this Fed, I’d worked with on your…uh…thing, named Bilkins…” Brian started.

“Stand-up dude. For a cop,” Rome said around a mouthful of nacho.

“Yeah, well he wasn’t always. He’s mellowed out a lot.” Brian appeared to be trying to compose the story in his head. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and absentmindedly lit one. “Well, see he wanted me and Rome to get in with this drug lord name of Verone…”

“…one sick motherfucker, man. Into rats.” Rome shuddered theatrically.

“Look, can I just tell this?’ Brian breathed smoke out his nose in annoyance. Rome shrugged.

Dom unexpectedly reached over, pinched the cigarette out of Brian’s mouth with his finger and thumb. He looked at it for a second like he couldn’t begin to imagine its function. Then he shrugged slightly, crushed it out on the underside of the table, and flicked it with deadly accuracy into a trash can.

Brian was actually openmouthed with surprise. Roman bit down on a laugh. Dom frowned down at the table for a second and spread his big palm over the pack of Marlboros. One squeeze and Dom had a pathetic little ball of paper and cellophane for another perfect shot into the trash.

“So you were saying?” Dom prompted. Brian blinked at him. Rome muffled his smirk in a mouthful of molé. Really, that was kind of cool. Rome had wanted to do that for over a month.

Brian glanced at Rome and then continued “…ah, yeah, well, so we won this kind of race/audition thing and we became his drivers….”

****

Brian came awake all in a second. There was someone on the boat, walking past the head. With all the blasts from the past this week, he didn’t hesitate a second before rolling over and fumbling his 9mm out of the footlocker that he used as a nightstand. Brian had a brief flash of Lance Nguyen’s button-black eyes before he located the gun. He had it cocked by the time the shadow appeared in the doorway.

“Shit!” Roman recoiled a step back into the hall. “Jumpy, much?”

“What the fuck, man?” Brian was so relieved that he felt like his muscles were melting. He sagged back down on the bed. 

“What crawled up your ass?’ Roman asked softly. “I’m just checking in. Making sure everything’s…copacetic.”

“It’s…” Brian knocked the pillow away from the clock. “Three A.M. Fucking school night, bro…what, did you want me to sneak out and egg some chick’s house with you? You need to grow up.”

Rome snorted softly. “You need to chill.” He settled down next to Brian’s feet on the bed. “You gonna race this weekend?” 

Brian ruffled a hand through his hair. “I guess. Hadn’t really thought about it.”

Rome just sat quietly for a few moments, chewing on what looked like a Popsicle stick and looking like he wanted to say something. 

Just as Brian opened his mouth to ask Roman what he wanted, Rome surprised him by speaking. “Hey, I’m sorry about…earlier. I don’t mean to keep busting your balls. I remember what I said on the pier and I meant it.”

Brian thumped his pillow half-heartedly. “’S cool. I lost three years of my life, I’d probably feel entitled to the occasional bitter and angry moment too.”

Rome chuckled. His teeth sparkled in the moonlight. Brian had to smile too; Rome’s laugh was always infectious. Rome stretched his arms over his head and rolled down until he was flat on his back with his head at Brian’s knee. Brian could see the edge of his jaw as he turned to look up at Brian and ask.

“So you asked him why he’s here?” 

“No.”

“Why not?”

“’Cause, it’s rude.”

“How’s it rude?”

Brian pulled the pillow over his head to muffle his groan. Rome reached up and yanked it away. He nudged Brian’s thigh. “So, how’s it rude?”

“Because. It would…It would be like I didn’t trust him or…something.” It would be like I didn’t want him around.

“So the hell what? Ain’t as if you were friends.”

Rome said it casually in a way that chafed. 

“Yeah, we were. For a moment back there, Rome. We were friends.” He continued because he knew it would hurt Roman in some small way. “We were good friends.”

Rome was silent. Brian wanted to explain, explain everything, but it felt like something that he couldn’t risk examining too closely, particularly in front of Rome. Rome sat up slowly.

“You leaving?” Brian tried to sound as if it was a matter of complete indifference to him.

“Shhhhhhh.” Rome’s shadow was over him suddenly and Rome’s breath was hot on his waist.

When Roman thumbed his buttons undone, Brian wanted to laugh or pull away, but again, it wasn’t something he could examine too closely, so he just lay still while Roman teased down his underwear and squeezed his limp dick.

What is this shit? Brian could feel his skin tightening as Rome spread a hot hand over the hard bone of his pelvis and took a long, slow taste of him. He didn’t say it though. Roman hadn’t put Brian’s cock in his mouth since they were both eighteen. 

Rome didn’t tighten his lips over Brian; he used mostly his tongue and fingers to pull Brian up to a full erection. Rome’s hot breath on his crotch, Rome’s clever fingers on his sac, quickly made Brian so hard that his eyes squeezed shut. 

Almost unconsciously, he reached to smooth his hands over Rome’s skull and was shocked out of his sex haze when Roman slapped his hand away. Brian smirked a little, breathless. Same ol’ Rome. 

Rome didn’t like to be touched when they did shit like this. It made him feel dominated or something.

All he could see was the gleam of Rome’s eyes in the moonlight. Brian lay back and shut his eyes and just let himself feel. Roman kept his mouth open and just bobbed his head, curling and stroking the flat of his tongue along the underside of Brian’s cock. The tingling cool-hot of breath and the tight ring of Rome’s fingers around the base made him throb. 

“Rome,” Brian muttered thickly. “I’m gonna…”

Rome tightened his fingers and pulled his mouth away to bite Brian’s thigh. When Brian opened his eyes, Rome was crouched above him looking very wicked and sexy. He rubbed the head of Brian’s cock over his lips while he sped up the rhythm of his hand. Brian arched his back when he came, but he didn’t thrust. 

His come on Rome’s dark hand looked like melted pearls in the faint light. When Rome jacked him through the last hitches of his orgasm, he felt wrung out like a rag. So much feeling, too much feeling these last couple of days. He suddenly couldn’t keep his eyes open.

He could feel Rome’s weight shift on the bed, then it was gone. Brian rolled over and managed to catch at Rome’s thigh as he moved past the far side of the bed. “Hey, you wanna stay? You wanna…”

“Nah, man,” Rome said softly. “I should go.”

Brian wanted to ask, even though he knew Roman would never tell. But Rome was already gone like a shadow in sunlight, so Brian didn’t have time to ask why he looked so serious and almost sad.

****

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Brian peered down out of the engine well. “Hey, hate to ask and all, but would you mind handing me the 3/8ths?”

“No problem,” Dom’s head appeared suddenly, very close. “Here you go.”

“Kinda thought you were on vacation.” Brian didn’t mean to, but the words came out sounding shy.

“Idle hands.” Dom shrugged, idly. “You need some help?”

“Some advice, maybe. What do you think of this? Guy doesn’t have much money.” Brian explained as he pointed to the Nioxx dry delivery system. 

Dom thought about it for a second and shrugged. “Double his horsepower. A good start, I guess.”

“You think he could win with this?” 

Dom grinned. “He could win if he never has to turn the wheel. Better transmission and differential wouldn’t hurt though. He’ll win some penny-ante suburban shit, come back when he gets a taste.”

Brian tightened up the valve, thumped the hose and ducked out from under the car. “That’ll do then. You hungry?”

“Oh yeah,” Dom nodded emphatically until Brian just had to smile. “Well, then let’s do it.”

They were almost to the car, when Rome pulled up in his slick-as-shit Eclipse. He regarded the two of them darkly for a moment. “We eating?”

Brian paused a second and shrugged. Dom appeared to smooth the frown off his face carefully. Dom tucked his keys back into his pocket. “So you gonna drive?”

Rome narrowed his eyes at Dom and Dom widened his at Roman. Brian rolled his eyes at both of them and climbed into the back so he could punch either one of them at will. If he needed to.

****

They drove for twenty minutes, Roman darting heated sideways glances at Dom like Dom was a teenager about to start shoplifting. Dom kept his hands unmoving on his thighs and gazed out at the passing Miami scenery like he was fascinated by each stand of palm trees and Cuban sandwich shop. 

They ended up eating in some quiet little crab shack on the bay near Tej’s place. Rome skidded to a halt in the gravelled lot, jerked the handbrake up, and gave both Brian and Dom a scorching, you-people-are-giving-me-a-headache look.

They managed to get ensconced at a booth and graciously acknowledged the mild flirtation of their waitress, looking for all the world like three work buddies on their lunch break and not two ex-cons and a fugitive cop. An older man wandered over to the dusty jukebox. Rome gave his order shortly and turned around to glare when the first notes of ‘Margaritaville’ wafted through the joint.

Brian had the feeling that Rome was going to continue to play chaperone. Roman was even now looking at him like some kind of stage mother, like he was trying to prompt Brian to ask the right questions. Brian knew that what Rome thought were the right questions, didn’t even come close to his own ideas on the subject.

“So how’s Mia?” Brian tried to ask this from behind his grouper sandwich to disguise just how much the casual words scared the shit out of him.

Dom continued chewing for a while before he answered. “She’s good. Real good.”

“Yeah?” Brian felt the relief kind of buzzing in his head. 

“Yeah, she’s in school and working part time in some lab. Making it all look easy. Got herself a nice little place.”

“What happened to the house?” Brian hoped he didn’t sound stricken.

“Sold it.” Dom said shortly. That seemed to be territory that should remain unexplored. Then Dom continued gently. “Safer that way. Plus, she couldn’t have stayed there, walked down that stoop every day.”

Brian nodded sadly. There was a moment of silence while Rome looked from Brian to Dom and back. The waitress had brought everyone’s food except for Roman’s, so he was thumping his fork on the placemat like it was a snare drum. Rome looked both bored and pissed off and just wild that he couldn’t, in good conscience, start complaining about it. Brian gave him a glance that said clearly see what happens when you invite yourself, dumbass?

“So how’s Letty?” Brian took a long pull at the mouth of his beer and looked up at the ceiling when he asked this. 

Dom smiled a small, wry smile and said softly. “Don’t exactly know.” Dom started peeling the label off his own beer and glanced at Rome.

Brian flicked his eyes at Dom quickly and then quickly away. Dom continued, “I assume she’s fine. Letty always lands on her feet.” Dom looked like he was going to say more and then decided against it. Brian took another long gulp to hide his face.

“What’s Leon doing with himself?” 

“He’s still in the city. Trying to stay out of trouble mostly.” Dom looked down into his Coke as if he was trying to see what Leon was doing right that minute.

Rome stood up suddenly, looking disgusted. Brian realized that this was the quietest that Roman had ever been since…shit, Brian couldn’t even remember back that far. Rome pimp-slid over to the jukebox shooting Brian an acid look over his shoulder. 

“Is he always this...protective of you?” Dom leaned in a little. “He kinda reminds me of someone.”

“Yeah?” Brian tried not to smirk. “How is Vince?’

Dom snorted, leaned down and fanned his fingers over his forehead. “You’re probably not going to believe this.”

“Try me.” Brian tried to hide the anxiety in his voice. “Is Vince okay?”

“I suppose it depends on what you mean by okay.” 

Brian’s stomach tightened. “Well, what do you mean by okay?”

Dom caught the edge in Brian’s voice and looked up. “Sorry. I’ve had time to get used to the idea, see? I’m no longer shocked.” 

“Could you just get to the fucking point already?” Brian had a sudden fleeting urge to slam Dom’s head into the table. “I just…” I made a lot of sacrifices for Vince and I’d just really like to know that it wasn’t a total…loss. Get it?

That seemed to bring Dom up short. He rolled his head back and nodded, placating. “I get it. Really. So Vince was hospitalized for a while, right? Police were on him kind of half-assed because they were getting conflicting stories from the trucker who may or may not have been hopped up on six kinds of methamphetamine when he took his shots. Plus they couldn’t find the rest of us…real hard to kind of bring a case together, right?" 

"That was the idea," Brian said dryly.

Dom raised his glass in salute. "So instead of carting him off right away, he’s there in that hick hospital in Hemet Valley for a month, getting physical therapy, stuff like that. So, anyway he meets this girl…”

Oh. Brian relaxed a little. The story had a girl. “At the hospital?”

“Yeah. Candy striper, or some such shit. Love at first sight, weird, huh? Anyway, he falls hard for the good girl. And she falls hard for the bad boy. Opposites seriously attract. It’s all hearts and flowers and get this…she alibis him. Says no, they got it all wrong. They got the wrong guy. Vince, he got shot protecting her from some old boyfriend and her word is good. Her word is solid.”

Brian raised his eyebrows. “Who is this girl?”

“This is the part that’s kind of hard to believe.” Dom leaned in. “She’s a born-again Christian. I never met a woman so pious. This lie is probably the last one she’ll ever tell and she and Vince are off to Oregon to…I dunno, have a dozen kids or something. Make some little paradise on earth. Needless to say…I’m not the most popular guy around anymore.”

“Well, that’s pretty much….the last thing I ever expected to hear.”

“That’s Vince for you.” Dom smiled wryly. “Make a good woman lie.”

Brian shook his head. “Wow. That’s love.”

They grinned at each other, and then suddenly it got weird.

****

When Rome got back to the table, Brian excused himself to go play over all of Rome’s jukebox selections. Or go to the bathroom, get some air, something.

Rome scowled at Brian’s retreating back, scowled at Dom and scowled down at his crab cakes. He stabbed a fork into one steaming little patty, but it was so good that he kind of lost the clear focus of his anger. 

“So when did you get out?” Dom asked matter-of-factly.

Rome looked up fast. Dom didn’t sound like he was trying to get up in Rome’s grille but that could be just his cagey game. Rome suddenly considered how he was eating: six inches from his food, fork in constant motion, his plate guarded in front by his forearm. It practically screamed ‘I’ve done time’. He settled back in the booth, looking at Dom warily. “Six months ago.”

“What was the beef?”

“GTA.”

“Chino?” 

“Yup.” 

Dom nodded slowly as if he’d had all his theories confirmed. “Long bit?”

Roman tried to sound unconcerned. “Three years.”

Dom’s eyes flashed at him suddenly, he raised one eyebrow. Rome got the feeling that somehow Dom was impressed. “Long time to spend in the gladiator school.”

It came to Roman in that instant that Dom wasn’t some citizen bystander asking out of curiosity. Dominic Toretto had spent some of his own time exploring the penal system. Which was painfully obvious when he thought about it. Rome suddenly felt like an idiot. His not-quite-healed lip tingled and he brushed it with a fingertip.

Rome explained, “Eight counts they had me cold on. So I went down hard even though it was first-time. Juvie records sealed and all.”

Dom’s lip seemed to want to slide up. “You stole eight cars?”

Rome bragged, just a little. “In forty-eight hours.”

Dom beckoned with two fingers, tell me everything. So Roman did. Dom chuckled and made sympathetic noises at all the right places.

“So how about you?” Rome asked as if they’d been talking about their respective high schools.

“Lompoc. Two years.” Dom took a sip of his soda. “Attempted murder.”

Rome’s mouth went dry. No wonder big homie’s usual expression hovered somewhere between stay the fuck away from me and get any closer and I’ll gut you. Rome couldn’t quite imagine the block they stuck you on for crimes against persons in Lompoc. Two years probably felt like a decade when you never got to actually sleep.

“How’d you work that shit?” Two years for attempted murder?

“Extenuating circumstances, pled down to ag assault. I went in clean, kept my head down. Didn’t fuck up.”

Rome examined a hush puppy before eating it. “I fucked up a lot.”

Dom just nodded at him again slowly and he raised his bottle in an ironic little toast. Rome felt some part of himself relax. Amazing how those five little words could be code for whole volumes of things. Brawls, shivs, gangs, tats, all the many things you would do if you were in prison and scared almost out of your mind. Things like that which stood like a wall between you and the rest of the world even after you got out.

Dom turned his head sideways and asked Rome. “Did you have to wear that stupid ankle-bracelet thing? Man, I hated that shit.”

“Oh, yeah,” Rome chuckled a little. “Didn’t let it cramp my style, though.” 

Dom leaned back and grinned. “Do tell.”

****

“So what happened to Brian? He’s looking kinda rough.” Maria asked teasingly.

Rome shrugged. “What am I? His babysitter?”

Maria traced the side of her thumb over the tiny, itchy remains of the cut on Rome’s lip. “Did you guys fight?” 

“Yeah, he wanted to ask you out, so I clocked him,” Roman said deadpan. 

Maria giggled in a way that made her sound like a schoolgirl, “You’re funny, papi.”

“Is that why Brian doesn’t ask anyone out?” One of Maria’s friends was trying to find her best pose on the trunk of the Nissan 350Z parked beside Rome’s Eclipse. “You want to keep us all for yourself, Rome?” 

Roman shot an appraising look her way. All Maria’s friends were flirtatious, Bonita more than most. The way she was packed into her dress, plus the heels on her mules, looked like a whole lot of trouble. Rome put on his best there’s-enough-of-me-to-go-around look. “I got needs, girl.”

Maria’s posse all ‘wooooed’ in unison and Maria nudged Rome in a way that didn’t feel completely good-natured. 

“Baby, you know I’m just playing,” He pressed a kiss on her pout. “I’m gonna go warm it up, get the party started, you wanna come along?” 

She sulked for a second longer and then slipped her hand into his. Rome took her on a quick circuit of the assembled racers.

“So, anything?” Brian asked. He and Dom had staked out turf next to Tej. A wide circle of people hovered around them, mostly rice boyz perving on their lines and logos. The girlfriends stood further back in that indifferent way that just begged to be noticed.

Rome pointed with two fingers over at the latest challenger. “This fool’s rolling on dubs, thinks he’s the biznatch.”

“He new? Don’t think I’ve seen him before.” Brian’s long legs pushed him halfway up the hood of the Skyline. All Brian’s clothing looked fresh. Like he’d just bought the stuff yesterday. Rome found it vaguely irritating. 

“From Hialeah, I think.” Rome confirmed. Tej cracked his gum as he took in the Mustang driver who was kitted out in a track suit and practically choked with chains and medallions.

Dom cocked his head over at the crowd hovering around the sassed-up Mustang and looked distinctly underwhelmed. “None for me, thanks.” 

“Why not?” Rome asked in lieu of saying something much ruder.

Dom lazily raised an eyebrow and one shoulder. “Looks sketchy.”

“I’ll race him then. I ain’t proud.” Rome huffed. 

“Since when?” Brian chuckled. 

Dom obviously knew better than to smile, but he scratched the curve of his lip thoughtfully. “Make sure someone else holds the cash, yeah?”

Roman waved off the advice impatiently.

The Mustang put down half its slick tires in the first two seconds and Rome was laughing to himself as he took the Eclipse up to redline in second gear. He let the pony pull up next to him before shooting the juice and leaving the guy stuttering behind in the last hundred yards. Toretto wasn’t the only one who could hold back ‘til it mattered.

Rome did a little victory lap that brought him back to the full wattage of Brian’s grin. Dom was leaning on his running board, his head so close to Brian’s that he could’ve whispered in his ear. He lifted his chin in acknowledgement of Roman’s victory. Rome’s challenger pulled up, his engine wreathed with wisps of steam. He got out, rolled his shoulders and lowered his head like a bull.

“Good one, man,” Rome offered his hand. “Better luck next time.”

The gangsta wannabe spat disgustedly at the ground between Roman’s feet. Rome felt his victory adrenaline ratchet up into his this-looks-like-trouble adrenaline. Rome tilted his chin upward and rolled his own shoulders a little. 

“Man, that was bullshit,” the young thug added a little volume while his friends formed up behind him. 

Rome didn’t have any doubts that he could kick this trifling motherfucker’s ass around the block a time or two, but…it would be aggravating. His shirt might get ripped. Maria might get pissed off at him. Or shit, that guy might have something with harder edges than a fist. Rome could feel the cold in his stomach and he flexed in wariness. Behind him, Brian had straightened up a little, tilting his weight forward in that way that said he was ready for anything.

Dom didn’t have to raise his voice to have it carry through the crowd. Rome could feel it on the back of his knees. Dom murmured, “What’s the problem?”

Rome twisted his head until his neck cracked. Dom took two steps forward until Rome could see him out of the corner of his eye. Dom said softly, “This guy playing on ass?”

“Looks that way,” Rome pitched his voice to carry. The crowd hushed.

The wannabe racer looked at him with a hesitant sneer. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He cut his eyes at his friends. Definitely ready to rumble. Rome could feel Brian settling into place on his left side.

Dom’s voice had a rough edge, like a file smoothing sharp corners down. “Bet with no money, you’d better win. Otherwise…”

“It’s your ass,” Rome finished.

The kid still sneered, but his eyes were getting shifty. “I got the stack.”

“That’s good. ‘Cause we know you now.” Dom gestured expansively at the crowds around them. “We know your face, know your car. You think we waste time on fools with no dash and no stash? Walk away without paying, best just keep walking. You could keep your money tonight…” Dom cocked his head and purred. “…maybe. But you won’t race again. Not for real money. Not here.”

It didn’t sound like a threat. It sounded like an edict from a judge. Tej was nodding his head like he was about to call for an amen.

The thug locked eyes with Dom for a long moment before looking back at Roman. The crowd stayed at a low murmur, on action-alert. The thug sucked on his teeth while rolling his eyes. He reached into his waistband and Rome stiffened a little. The wannabe pulled out his roll and slapped it into Rome’s hand like he was anxious to get rid of the filthy greenbacks. He turned and circled a finger, signaling his posse to roll up and move out. 

Rome took a long, silent breath looking down at the thick wad of bills. Seriously, the juice was barely worth the squeeze. At least he didn’t have to cut his hands up on some guy’s teeth. Rome looked sideways at Dom and jerked his chin. 

Dom raised his eyebrows in acknowledgement of Roman’s thanks and turned back to chat with Brian. Tej ambled up to Rome smiling wryly. “My cut’s not looking steep now, is it?”

Rome just rolled his eyes.

Suki ran up to them, crowing about how she’d taken two grand off some player that afternoon and his custom rims. Tej slid his arms around her and dutifully ooohed and aaahed.

“You gonna switch them out for me tomorrow, baby?” Suki asked, kissing him quickly before she ran off to gush to another crowd of her giggling friends.

“Oh, you know it.” Tej called to her retreating back. 

“You are so whipped,” Rome groused at Tej.

“If you were smart, you’d realize that it’s the only way to be.” Tej grinned at Rome with a flash of gold and shook his head like he knew it was a lost cause. “But you ain’t smart.” 

****

He’d lost the bandage two days prior, but he had a week of painkillers left. He took one too many and they deepened his sleep until Rome almost had to shake him awake. 

Brian rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. The blue-tinged moonlight told him how late it was. All he could see was Rome’s inky shadow, feel his warmth on the side of the bed. Rome smelled like rum, lime and sweat. 

“You got a…” Brian cleared his throat. “…problem or something?” 

The light shifted on his skull as Rome shook his head, “Nah.”

Brian scratched his stomach drowsily. He was almost back asleep when Rome said, “You’d have had my back tonight, right?”

Brian turned on his side, thumping the pillow. “As always.”

Rome was silent for a long moment. At first, Brian almost didn’t notice the weight of Rome’s hand on his hip. It was the long stroke down his thigh that woke him up finally. Brian lifted his head off the pillow, “You gonna stay?”

Rome froze and peeled his fingers off Brian’s leg. “Nah, I can’t.”

Brian jerked the sheet from under Rome’s butt, pulled it up over his chest. “Then don’t start.” 

Brian felt the bed shift as Roman got up. He listened to the planks creak as Roman walked out onto the deck. After he’d waited three minutes without hearing an answering creak from the gangplank, he sighed and sat up. He slid into yesterday’s pants and followed the moonlight to the back deck.

Rome was leaning on the rail looking out at the moon path to the other side of the bay. His eyes were slightly hooded and it made him look cruel. 

Brian stood for a while, feeling the breeze stroking him slowly awake. He cleared his throat and asked, “You miss home?”

Rome cocked his head incredulously. “What?” 

“Home, d’you miss it?”

“Shit, man, there wasn’t anything there to begin with.” Rome laughed a little. “What am I supposed to miss?”

“I dunno.” Brian sat down carefully on the rail. It looked like it could take both their weight. “Your mom’s cooking?”

“My mom’s not really that good a cook.” Roman looked at him sharply. “If you ever tell her I said that, they’ll never find your body.”

“Huh,” Brian mused. “I thought she was good.”

Rome shook his head regretfully. “We were just always hungry enough to eat dirt, remember?”

“Sure, I remember. I remember…” Brian yawned. “…everything.”

Rome went silent for a while, rocking a little on his heels with the rhythm of the boat. “You know what you want?”

Brian screwed one eye shut and then the other, then opened both. “Look, bro, that’s like a good question when we’re ordering lunch, but without some context I’m gonna have to follow up with another question and that is: just what the fuck do you mean?”

Rome grinned unexpectedly, “Guess you’re more awake than I thought. Needing context and everything.”

“Yeah, well.” Brian slumped on the rail and tried to put the cool back in his voice. “Give.”

“Life, man,” Rome gestured expansively at the moon. “What do you want from life?”

“Christ,” Brian slumped harder. “Only you would show up in the middle of the night asking philosophical shit like that.”

“Yeah, well,” Rome grumbled frankly, hunching back into the rail. “I didn’t plan on it.”

Rome froze a little after saying this and Brian felt his sudden anger jolt through him like an electric shock. 

“Yeah, I know you, man,” Brian said nastily. “Wouldn’t want to mess up your usual M.O. Wouldn’t want to rock the boat.” He pushed all his weight off the rail to emphasize his words. The houseboat didn’t rock exactly but the water murmured. Rome just narrowed his eyes and silently told Brian not to be a dick.

“I got everything I want, Rome.” Brian said in a ‘this conversation is over’ tone. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. 

“You asked big homie just what the hell he wants then?” Rome’s stance was suddenly belligerent.

“Just what the fuck is this obsession of yours with him?” Brian returned. “What does it matter what he wants? Who says he wants anything?”

“He don’t have to say,” Rome shifted angrily and the deck planks creaked. “It’s plenty ob…”

“Whatever,” Brian interrupted and made to move to the side. “Ask him yourself.”

“Think I won’t?” Rome sounded both aggressive and tired at the same time. “I get plenty of chances. You like him hanging around so much, you’d think he was some kind of Playmate of the Year.”

“Yeah, well,” Brian snapped over his shoulder. “At least he doesn’t ask me stupid questions.”

Rome’s voice came harsh over the sound of the slap of water hitting the sides of the boat. “Hey, cuz, it’s only when folks start _wondering_ , that they start asking.”

****

Brian held Rome’s eyes defiantly for a few long moments when he showed up at the garage the next morning. Roman didn’t say a word, just grabbed the work orders out of his box and shuffled through them. Brian coughed meaningfully and Rome asked without looking up, “Getting a cold?”

Brian sighed and went back to de-carbonizing a cylinder head. They managed to go the morning without acknowledging their late night almost-conversation. Only the steady rhythm of work kept the tension from building up like a summer storm. 

Brian happened to be glancing Rome’s way when he heard the distinctive rumble of the Plymouth which meant that Dom was only a block away. Rome took a deep breath, while Brian was straightening up and wiping off his hands.

Dom had pulled up at the edge of the tiny lot and Brian looked out at him and then back at Rome. Dom made a little circle with his index finger and Brian nodded.

“Change your shirt, bro, you look like trash,” Rome’s voice came drifting sarcastically from the utility room.

“Going to lunch, you wanna come?” Brian ducked his head under the last lift and leaned on the doorframe of the utility room. 

Rome didn’t turn around to look, just kept picking at an El Camino’s carb and drinking a soda. “Nah, not today. I got a thing.” 

“A thing? What’s a thing?” Brian swiped at the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand, hoping he wasn’t leaving an oil streak. 

Rome paused and looked at the ceiling. “Just a thing.”

“Yeah? That’s cool.” Brian paused, unsure of what he was supposed to say. “Maria?”

Rome simply nodded. 

“Well, have fun.” Something mean made Brian say, “Don’t wait up.”

Rome swiveled around suddenly, “You want me to close, I’ll close.”

Brian shifted from foot to foot. “Uh, you sure? What about your thing?”

Rome bobbed his head, “It’ll be cool. It’s Saturday, anyway. Take some time off. You’ve been working too hard lately.”

Brian restrained himself from checking Rome’s forehead for a fever. “OK…thanks.”

Brian turned to go. He got to the door half expecting Roman to laugh and take it back, but Rome just muttered in a voice that obviously didn’t want to be overheard, “Get your head straight.”

****

“Just you and me today?” Dom asked as Brian settled into the Plymouth and adjusted his headrest. Brian looked as cool as ever, even cooler maybe. He looked really nice actually, wearing a spotless shirt in a gray-blue that turned his eyes laser-bright. 

Brian adjusted his shades. “Chaperone’s taking the day off.”

Dom nodded and asked quietly. “So, what are you in the mood for?”

“You got some time?” Brian wriggled a little on the bench seat, looking like he was trying to find the best place to put his hands.

“I got nothing but,” Dom replied.

Brian jerked his chin. “Let’s hit it. Get on the turnpike south.”

“Where are we headed?”

Brian stretched back into the generous bench seat. “I thought we’d head down Highway 1. Go eat some shrimp.”

Dom felt a fountain of warmth flood his belly and flow up his spine. “How history does repeat itself.”

Brian paused for a second, then turned and looked at Dom over the top of his sunglasses. He said slowly, “Different this time, you know. It’s a whole ‘nother ocean.”

Dom had a feeling that those words were meant to relax him, so it was kind of weird that they had exactly the opposite effect. 

Brian asked quietly, “You’ve never seen the Keys, have you?”

“Nah, not yet.” Something about today, something was different. He could feel the difference.

“It’s a trek though,” Brian warned “Over a hundred miles.”

Dom thought about the two and a half thousand miles he’d come to be blinking into the sun with Brian by his side. “So let’s do it.”

Dom pushed his own sunglasses back up and goosed the accelerator hard enough to make Brian laugh like a kid.

****

It just looked like redneck Florida until they passed Islamorada. Marshes crowded up to the roadside, rustling with humidity. Brian watched the furrow in Dom’s forehead get deeper as he tried to rein the big car in against the traffic. Then the scrubby trees got sparser and all the cars around them seemed to decide that it was time to turn off or move. The ocean and the bay spread out from either side of the road. Brian looked over at Dom when the first big bridge arched across the sky. 

“Pretty cool, huh?”

The dimples framing Dom’s smile got deeper. “It’s gorgeous.”

“I love it down here,” Brian said to the horizon. The balance between land, sea and sky was perfect. 

“Heat doesn’t bother you?” Dom tilted his head to sample the breeze.

“You get used to it.” Brian shrugged. 

Dom held the wheel steady while scanning the ocean side for dolphins. "We need a convertible."

Brian said seriously, “Yeah, that’d be something.”

Dom took another deep breath like he was tasting the briny air. They were quiet for a while just watching the clouds and feeling the steady thrum of the engine in their skin and bones. Up on the bridges, the big car seemed like it would launch itself and fly. 

They arrived in Key West three hours before sunset, parked on a side street and strolled down Duval to the piers. The streets were tinseled with motorcycles, mostly Harleys and Buells with Ducatis and Kawasakis sprinkled in for color. Traffic moved at a walk. A slow walk.

“Bike week,” Brian explained. Dom just raised his eyebrows. A crowd of sailors passed on the far side of the street, splashing beer from their go-cups and talking too loudly. It was way too early for dinner and almost too late for lunch. 

“So what do people do for fun around here?” Dom asked quietly. 

Brian grinned and steered them into the Flying Monkey, “Mostly? They drink.” 

****

This was tough. 

Brian tilted back on his barstool trying to find the most comfortable position. Dom looked comfortable in his half-lean, taking in the changing color of the sky, the pretty, underdressed people and the flocks of chrome-heavy motorbikes. 

Brian chewed on his straw, felt the buzz in his veins and knew in his bones that he was going to be the one to blink first. He looked over at Dom, who had finally succumbed to the song and ordered a margarita. 

Three different bars. Over seventy bucks of assorted brews and cocktails. Brian couldn’t begin to gauge how much time that represented, other than the lowering sun which was painting the sky yellow, pink and dark violet. And this conversation was still proceeding like a half-assed game of chicken, where they’d peel off if it felt like they were getting too close to something.

It was amazing how much they could talk without saying anything. It was a weird feeling. Like playing a game without knowing the stakes. 

"So what's the story...." Dom started and Brian's stomach tightened. "on that Skyline."

Brian relaxed a little. “No story. Picked it up somewhere. Gave it a little TLC.” 

“A little? Tej told me that they trashed it when they pulled you,” Dom swiped languorously at the beads of sweat on his neck. “Hit it with, like, an EMP.”

“Yeah,” Brian drawled, wondering just when Dom and Tej had been having these detailed discussions without him. “Kinda brought me up short.”

“I bet.” Dom paused as the sun sank another inch. “That year and that caliber of Nissan, that must’ve been all chipped to hell and back. Computerized down to the side mirrors. How’d you rebuild it?”

“Slowly and carefully,” Brian said, feeling oddly like he was confessing something. “Engine was still good, chassis too, so I had a body with a heart and lungs all I needed to do was…”

“Replace the central nervous system?” Dom half-smiled.

“Yeah, something like that,” Brian shrugged lightly. “Enough time, money and patience and I guess you could probably fix anything.” 

Dom looked back to the horizon, “Not anything.”

“Well,” Brian said slowly with a sudden sense that this conversation was taking place on a whole other topic. “You could try.” 

Dom grinned a little and said, “I knew a guy once who….” 

Brian took a sip of his drink and concentrated so hard on the sound of Dom’s voice that he forgot to listen to the words. The sunset tinted Dom’s skin a kind of honey color.

“…That doesn’t get difficult?” Dom touched his tongue lightly to the rim of his glass. Brian could almost taste the salt himself. 

“What?” Brian blinked when he realized that Dom had stopped speaking.

Dom raised his eyebrows and asked wryly, “Left-handed shifting doesn’t get difficult?”

“Ah…nah, I’m pretty good with my left hand,”

Dom raised his eyebrows even higher and asked, innocently, “Oh, really?” 

Brian rubbed his eyebrow with his middle finger and Dom chuckled. 

Dom stretched languidly. Brian looked away. He could practically hear Rome’s voice in his head ask him. He looked out at the water for a second and pushed himself back into the present. 

“You haven’t asked me why I’m here.” Dom tilted his fourth drink back and forth, watching the tequila and ice eddy and swirl in the bottom of the glass. Brian glanced at him sharply and Dom smiled at him.

Brian felt a thrill of heat on the back of his neck and ducked his head. “Not my business.”

Dom’s grin was infectious; the bartender strolled up and offered refills. “You don’t care?”

“Did I say that?” Brian’s voice sounded loud in his own ears. These mojitos were hot stuff. Brian mumbled into his glass. “Figured you’d say, and then I wouldn’t have to ask.”

Dom’s attention had wandered. Dom was looking past him to the darker side of the bar. Brian leaned back a little and followed Dom’s eyes. Two seats down, a huge guy with a ponytail and a leather vest over his t-shirt was kissing another guy with tattoos that crowded right up into his hairline. First guy came up for air for a second and shot Dom a look that was about as friendly as a rocket-propelled grenade.

Brian interposed himself before Dom could get them on the list for an ass-kicking. “You hungry?”

Dom blinked and checked the level in his glass. “Someone promised me shrimp.”

****

“So….” Brian dabbed a shrimp in cocktail sauce. “Why are you here?” 

Dom looked at him for a long moment, not smiling. “Why are you here?” 

Brian chewed without tasting and shrugged. There was a note in Dom’s voice that was unfamiliar. “I have to be somewhere.”

Dom asked from behind his beer. “I mean, why are you twisting a wrench? If you’re ‘free and clear’ why aren’t you off somewhere being the white knight?”

“A cop, you mean?” Brian cocked his head. Sometimes it was hard to tell if Dom was being sarcastic. 

Dom’s bottle hovered an inch away from his lips in a distracting way. Dom arched one elegant eyebrow and nodded.

Brian shrugged again and spread his hands, “Does it look like I’m doing something wrong? It’s a fun town. I got my own shop, cool address…good friends.” 

He picked up his beer and tilted it at Dom. “And until last week, there wasn’t anyone faster in the neighborhood. You can’t sit there and tell me you….disapprove of the lifestyle.” 

Dom pulled one side of his mouth up. “Fair enough.” 

Brian continued, “You know, you pull up to a crowd and the guys all owe you money…”

“…And most of the ladies want you to owe them something.” Dom finished.

They shared a chuckle. Brian felt his seat creak as he leaned back. “Like a rock star.”

“Better than a rock star,” Dom gestured vaguely with his bottle. “No paparazzi.”

Dom set his drink down and leaned back in his chair. “Gets dull after a while though.”

Brian shrugged a little. “Maybe.”

Dom didn’t say anything, just looked at his shrimp like he was waiting for it to beg for mercy. “Why’d you do it in the first place? Become a cop, I mean?”

Brian looked over Dom’s shoulder, “Where I’m from, there weren’t really a whole lot of options for guys like me.”

“Somehow I doubt,” Dom took a sip. “That there are a whole lot of guys like you.” 

Brian felt his stomach tighten again like someone had just threatened to punch him. The pleasure of those words moved through him so fast that it almost hurt. 

“’S true though.” Brian said, after he regained his composure.

“Nah, there’s more to it than that.” Dom leaned back and folded his arms. “Become a cop, you don’t just tick a box and go to auto shop when your first choice was gym.” 

“Why all these questions?” Brian stripped a shrimp self-consciously. “Point’s kind of moot.”

“I’m just trying to understand.” Dom said low. 

“Understand what?” Brian noticed he was leaning on his left elbow so hard, it was going numb. 

Dom paused, then leaned in and whispered archly, “Some of the crazy shit you do.”

“Oh, yeah?" Brian took the weight off his arm and flexed it. "Coming from you, that's kind of..."

"I'm serious, though." Dom looked serious. "This is a serious question."

"You know, like most people who live their lives a quarter mile at a time..." Brian started. Dom grimaced like Brian was reminding him of something stupid he'd said while drunk. "...I'm just not very good at the day-to-day stuff."

“Yeah, I hear that,” Dom’s eyes gleamed in the glowy Christmas tree lights that ringed the terrace of the restaurant. He sighed. “No matter how fast you are the days always catch up.”

Brian bobbed his head, “Yeah.”

There was a longish pause while Dom examined his plate thoroughly and Brian watched him. If it wasn’t a comfortable silence, it wasn’t exactly uncomfortable.

“But that’s not the real reason,” Brian said finally. “That I’m no longer a cop.”

Dom picked up a piece of parsley and chewed it very methodically. He said “Yeah?” in a go on voice. “Why not?”

Brian hooked an elbow over the back of his chair. “Mostly ‘cause I suck at it.”

Dom huffed a gentle laugh. “That so?”

“Uh-huh,” Brian said seriously. “I lack some pretty-much-essential qualities for a cop.”

“What’re those then?” Dom was still almost smiling.

Brian paused for a moment, hearing Tanner’s calm intonation in his head. “Really poor impulse control, apparently. I run too hot. Plus I don’t have a good instinct for self-preservation. You can’t protect and serve if you can’t protect yourself.” 

Dom chuckled down at his plate, then glanced up at Brian from under his eyelashes. He relaxed back into his chair and brandished a beer bottle. “Let’s drink to that then.” Dom’s voice got loud enough to carry. “Here’s to no instinct for self-preservation.”

Brian tilted his bottle for the clink obligingly. 

“So why are you here?” Brian asked, trying to keep his tone light.

Dom hesitated, so he wheedled. “C’mon, I just spilled, like, half of my guts over here.”

“Just half?” Dom raised an eyebrow and smirked. Brian frowned at him while Dom squashed his napkin and pushed his plate away. The restaurant was starting to empty out; they were the only people in this corner of the courtyard. There was music playing somewhere.

"Like today?" Brian prompted.

“It’s getting late.” Dom stretched theatrically. “Time to go.” He signaled for the check.

“Tell me about the Plymouth,” Brian countered smoothly.

Dom shook his head, grinning. “Picked it up somewhere. Gave it a little TLC.”

“All the time I put into the Skyline, I still wasn’t rebuilding from the ground up,” Brian returned.

“Yeah,” Dom gave a fake sigh. “Probably a mistake to invest in something that old, beat-up and temperamental.”

“Well if it suits you….” Brian said brightly.

Dom laughed and aimed a mock-swipe at Brian’s shoulder “I wasn’t looking to do anything in particular with it. I was just experimenting. Seemed like there was a lot of time to….”

Dom’s gaze sharpened for a second and he trailed off.

“Why’d you pick a Plymouth?” Brian asked gently. “Seems so old-school.”

“Mmm, that’s easy,” Dom murmured. “They’ve all got that special something that I really admire.”

“And what’s that?” Brian asked just as the waiter set down the check. He threw a few bills down without looking at it.

Dom rubbed his thumb over the edge of his lower lip and said seriously, “They’re pretty much indestructible.”

****

“What’s with all the pictures?” Dom squinted down the street where they were parked. Brian glanced down to where little clusters of tipsy tourists were leaning together for a photograph before breaking apart and moving on in twos and threes. “What’s down there?”

Brian took a longer look, then shrugged, “Dunno. Let’s take a look.”

They strolled down, hands in pockets. There were shells crushed into the concrete and they glittered in the faint light. Dom ducked to avoid a palm frond. When they got the end of the street, the small crowd had dispersed and the road was relatively quiet.

“I don’t get it,” Dom scanned the rows of old-fashioned, clapboard houses looking mystified. “What’s the attraction?” 

Brian looked up and grinned. “The mile marker. Highway One.” He pointed up to the reflective green and white of the sign that read simply ‘0’. “Must be kind of cool for the people that drive down here from, like, New York." He jerked his head toward the other side of the street where they could hear the ocean shushing against pilings and smacking the sea wall. "End of the road.” 

“Why’s it have to be the end of the road?” Dom asked slowly, turning away from the sign. “Maybe it’s the beginning.”

“Yeah, no, sure.” Brian wondered at himself, surely he wasn’t drunk enough to be this tongue-tied. “Why not?”

****

With the windows down, the briny air flowed through the Plymouth. Brian could almost taste the saltwater in the air, the damp warmth felt like a light hand on his face. Somehow the time had just seeped away and now it was late-late, the road was dappled with lights from an occasional gas station or motel. The inky black of the ocean seemed to want to swallow the stars.

Suddenly a breath of cooler air whipped through the car followed by a rushing, roaring sound from the ocean side. Brian looked out into the dark of sea and sky, just in time to catch the burst of lightning and a crack that sounded like the earth was breaking. 

They just managed to roll the windows up before the rain was on them. Tropical cats-and-dogs, build-an-ark type rain. It drummed against the hood and roof with an almost sentient ferocity.

Even though the Plymouth’s lights were set high and spaced wide, Dom still had to hunch forward and squint. The raindrops seemed to be flying out of the darkness to attack them, like a horde of soldiers throwing themselves on the car. 

“What is this el Niňo?” Dom sounded both irritated and slightly awed.

“Nah, it just rains like this,” Brian settled back. It was actually kinda nice, if you could ignore the fact that there were plenty of low parts of the road ready to flood and Dom’s tires were made for racing, not traction. Wouldn’t do to hydroplane on one of the causeways. It was a long way back to Mexico.

“It’s a monsoon,” Dom grunted. 

“This is the swamp, not the desert, remember?”

Dom just nodded, hitched himself forward in the seat and turned his brights on. The wind pummeled the side of the car. Brian could see the muscles play in Dom’s arm as he tightened his grip on the wheel.

“Do you want me to drive?” Brian murmured. 

Dom shook his head slowly, “I don’t want anyone to drive. This is shit.”

The dark-tinted windows which made life more comfortable in nonstop sunshine put them at a serious disadvantage with no streetlights and very little signage.

They hit a low patch and Brian could hear the water churning around the undercarriage. Dom turned off the stereo and his breath sounded loud in counterpoint to the constant shush-shush of the rain.

Brian couldn’t actually bring himself to make the suggestion, so he tapped his index finger on the window as they passed the gaudy neon blur of a motel. Dom didn’t acknowledge the gesture, but his chin sank down to his chest. 

Brian watched as Dom’s thumbnail dug into the seams on the steering wheel. They drove onward in silence.

They passed a sign: Miami – 104 miles. The air in the car started to thicken. Brian focused on the darkness ahead trying to make his mind blank, to slow his heartbeat. He almost flinched when he felt the Plymouth swing off wide into the parking lot of a Holiday Inn.

Dom idled for a few moments under the hotel’s awning, cooling his turbocharger. Brian put his hand on the door handle but Dom shook his head at him silently. So Brian watched Dom disappear into the brightness of the lobby. Dom’s body painted graceful shadows against the yellow light. Brian leaned back, closed his eyes and listened to the rain. He didn’t even have to force himself into the present moment; it felt like his mind had just stopped working.

When Dom got back in the car, he didn’t say anything and he didn’t look at Brian, he just made that odd little roll up gesture with his index finger. Brian took that to mean that the room was around back. 

****

The rain was still pounding the hood, drumming the roof over their heads. The windows were starting to absorb the chill. They’d fogged slightly. The longer they sat here, the harder it became to leave. 

Brian wished there was something clever he could say, make the awkwardness of this situation just evaporate. But nothing came to mind. The longer they sat in silence the more this odd, pulsing feeling grew.

 _ESPN,_ Brian thought. Pizza, Laker highlights, maybe a minibar. There was no reason on earth that this had to feel so strange. It would help if Dom would say one goddamned thing. Dom was just breathing evenly and looking down at his dashboard as if he were waiting for a gauge to give him some vital readout that would allow him to move. Occasionally he would look over, but couldn’t seem to raise his gaze higher than Brian’s hands.

Brian took a deep breath, braced himself a little and pushed the door open. The high whine of his own nerves was starting to make him angry. He forced himself to step out into the rain as if it didn’t bother him at all. The rain thumped him completely soaked within seconds, so he didn’t bother racing for a door that he wasn’t particularly anxious to step through.

He felt the car shake as the opposite door slammed. Dom stood blinking cautiously heavenward, looking bemused, what is this water falling from the sky? There was a streetlight in the far corner of the lot and it threw a circle of white into the curtain of rain. It painted one side of Dom’s face visible. 

Brian took a deep breath. 

It had been over a year, but it felt like an hour now, now when he was feeling just exactly the same way as he had then. They had been standing like this with the car beside them, just like this and that had been bright California sun, not dark Floridian rain, but he’d felt almost just like this. All ripped up on the inside. Feeling like he’d jerked the earth from under his own feet.

“Why are you here?” Brian surprised himself by speaking aloud.

Rain got in his mouth and he glanced over quickly to see if the rain had muffled his uncensored words. The rain drummed steadily on the hollow shell of the car. There was no doubt that Dom had heard him though. Dom turned that cautious look on him, blinking occasionally to keep the water out of his eyes. Dom’s voice was low, but it always carried. “Why do you think?”

“Just answer me,” Brian said. “I’m tired of my own theories.”

Dom cocked his head and Brian steeled himself. He swallowed and straightened, thinking that all the time and the distance between them that they’d somehow managed to bridge; it meant nothing if he couldn’t speak right now. He took two steps which brought him to the edge of the hood; he could feel the heat of the engine even through the cold of the rain.

“Bilkins said once that vengeance might bring you out here.” Brian did his best to sound detached. “But he didn’t know you like I did. You’re too cool and in control to let it own you like that.” 

“And maybe I’d had enough.” Dom was looking at him with that old challenging expression that was almost a sneer. Dom looked so solid and complete in himself. His skin, smooth as a bullet, rain and light dripping from him. Rain gleamed on his skull, dripped from his knuckles and earlobes. His white t-shirt was now completely translucent and clung to him like liquid. Like someone had poured milk all over his chest. 

“So why?” Brian persisted.

Dom blinked slowly and it made Brian suddenly conscious again of how incredibly hard it was raining, how the individual drops tapped his shoulders. The runnels of water that trickled and tickled down his chest made him very conscious of how few steps separated them. 

Dom made a sound low in his throat and it took a second for Brian to realize that it was a chuckle. “You think I’m cool?” Dom looked up again and shut his eyes against the rain. It gleamed on his cheekbones. “You think I’m in control?”

Brian noticed suddenly that Dom’s hands were tightly clenched. Brian took another step closer and Dom didn’t back up exactly, but he rolled his shoulders, shifting his weight back. Brian’s sharpened gaze caught the faint tremors that made Dom’s shoulders shake. Dom was still giving him a half-sneer but from this close, Brian could see that Dom’s lips were…

 

…trembling.

That old daredevil instinct led him to reach out a hand to press Dom’s chest. To nudge Dom’s plum-colored nipple with the edge of his thumb. Brian could feel it as Dom took a deep, labored breath. 

Brian could feel each finger as Dom wrapped his hand around Brian’s wrist. Dom pulled Brian’s hand deliberately up to eye level and looked at it curiously for a long moment. Dom turned the palm up and down and examined it from all sides and, for some reason, his steady regard made Brian’s cock chafe against the soaked denim of his jeans. 

Then Dom carefully set Brian’s hand back on his chest, drawing his thumb over the ticklish vein on the back of Brian’s palm. Brian’s breath exploded, his cock leaped to attention and he jerked his hand back. 

And Dom came with it. 

They came together so hard that Brian was surprised it didn’t make more noise. Brian buried his teeth in Dom’s neck and Dom locked on to Brian’s shoulder, biting and snuffling. Dom had one hand jerking at Brian’s sopping t-shirt while the other squeezed the water from his hair. 

“You know what you’re doing?” Dom’s hot breath made the goosebumps radiate from Brian’s ear. The sudden creak of metal was almost inaudible over the rain, but the Plymouth complained when he shoved Dom hard into the door. Dom twisted quickly and they both almost tripped.

“No,” Brian licked the rain from the long curve under Dom’s jaw. Sucked on Dom’s earlobe, mashed his face into the long tendon of Dom’s neck. Rain was getting up his nose. Brian was already panting and his nipples dragged against his shirt in a way that made him grateful that everything was soaking wet. 

Otherwise the friction could have been truly incendiary. 

****

Dom had a long moment where all he could do was just try to remember to keep breathing. 

It was like trying a dish that you’d never liked the sound of and discovering on the first taste that it was something you wanted to eat every day of your life.

He felt that now with the hot rain flavor of Brian’s shoulder in his mouth. Brian’s skin awakened an old hunger inside his stomach, chest, right up into his mouth. The taste of Brian was satisfying and enflaming all at once. Dom mouthed him desperately, trying to lick, taste and inhale all at once. Rain was getting into his mouth and nose, but the chill wasn’t soaking in.

Brian’s hot breath was giving him goose bumps. Brian bit him on the jaw and it made him shudder. 

He managed to drag himself to arm’s length for a second and it was bad, yeah, very, very bad. No one should have to see Brian’s mouth all slack and wet like that, Brian’s eyes all blurred with lust and rain. To feel Brian’s fingers lacing over his shoulders, to feel the steady pull that drew him, groaning, back into those strong arms. Brian tilted his head and drew Dom past the unbelievable torture of his wet eyelashes and into the fiery hell of his mouth. 

Dom could feel the muscles in his arms almost cramping with the effort of not squeezing Brian until his ribs cracked. He tried to distract himself from the delicious wet mouth by fingering up each separate vertebrae of Brian’s spine and tangling his hands in Brian’s sodden curls.

Suddenly, Dom could think for a second and he pulled back. Brian looked confused, then that fierce, intent look that Dom recognized as anger. Dom hoped that Brian would forgive him; he just couldn’t stand the idea of something like this happening in a parking lot in the pissing rain. 

He couldn’t speak, so he pointed. Brian blinked and his eyes cleared. He inclined his head toward the glass door into the stairwell of the motel. Dom nodded slowly. 

He’d forgotten. Somehow. He’d forgotten how fast Brian could move when he was motivated.

****

The hallway smelled of cleanser and slightly of dog. While Dom jammed the keycard in the lock, Brian scanned the hall, shifting from foot to foot. The room was as cold as a meatlocker, humming with the strength of the air conditioner which was on full-blast. 

When Brian shut the air conditioner off, its rattle was replaced by silence and the roaring rush of the rain outside. Now he could hear the steady thump, thump, thump of droplets falling from his clothes onto the thick carpet. Dripping from Dom in a slightly faster tempo. The door swung shut and the darkness became complete again. 

Brian nervously felt along the wall and the credenza for some light source. He almost knocked the lamp over, but managed to grip it with the tips of his fingers. He switched it on and the light was dim enough so he didn’t have to squint. The wan light made the bedroom glow. Two broad beds separated by a nightstand. A T.V. on a dresser. A round veneer table and two chairs. A seascape on the wall to remind Brian that this wasn’t just an anonymous hotel room, it was an anonymous hotel room in Florida. 

A long gust of wind sent rain pattering onto the balcony. 

Brian worried for a long second that having lost the momentum of that insane, rain-soaked moment in the parking lot, that this all would stutter to a stop, that Dom would retreat back into himself. Dom had moved next to him and was standing at the edge of the open curtain looking out at a rather generous balcony and a stand of palm trees fringing a pool. Still dripping.

Dom’s eyes were oil black. He looked very serious as he ran a finger down the edge of the curtain and he didn’t turn to look at Brian as he said. “Don’t make me say something cheesy about getting out of these wet clothes.”

Brian barked one half of a laugh and grabbed the back of Dom’s neck. His lips were cold, but not for long.

****

Back, c’mon this was stupid. Dom wondered how he could disentangle himself long enough to get at least one person’s shirt off. Maybe if he just started pulling, Brian would get the idea and stop doing that…whatever he was doing that was making it so hard to think. It was like they were trapped in a thick cloud of arousal that was making them too stupid and impatient to undress themselves.

He managed to stop the stroking long enough to curl one hand under Brian’s tee and pulled a few inches up. The skin of Brian’s back was so. Smooth. And he really wore his jeans way too baggy. Even with the rain making the denim stiff and uncooperative, Dom felt sure that if he shoved hard enough, he could make some headway on getting Brian out of his pants.

Brian wasn’t very helpful unless you called writhing in Dom’s arms and grinding their erections together ‘helpful’. His palm was warm on the back of Dom’s skull. Dom valiantly tried to focus.

Brian obviously took Dom’s hand dipping below his waistband as some kind of special invitation. His own hand that had been tracing every last detail of Dom’s ribs decided to tickle down into the long curve of Dom’s pelvis and make it snappy with Dom’s button fly. Dom grunted at the sheer audacity and he jerked back, forgetting the hand that he had twisted in Brian’s shirt for leverage. The thin, wet cotton ripped all the way up the side seam to the armhole. 

The zzzzt! signaling the death of his shirt seemed to rouse Brian from the cloud of his Dom, tongue, hot thoughts and he actually paused to look down at himself. He looked back up at Dom with a curious mixture of outrage and lasciviousness.

“That’s how you like it?” Brian whispered and Dom thought, _trouble!_

Brian was grinning as he hooked his hands over Dom’s collar and ripped his still see-through shirt down the front to his waist. Brian had time to laugh once before Dom growled and shrugged himself free of the rags.

Brian leaned in and bit him hard enough to leave half-moon bruises on the bulge of Dom’s pectorals. Instead of recoiling, Dom pulled him tighter, plucking at the remains of his shirt. The collar gave way when Dom bit a hole in the shoulder.

And then Dom doubled the dare by hooking his own fist over Brian’s waistband, thumbing the button loose and jerking the zipper down so hard that it nearly sliced its serrated edge into his palm. Dom tugged at Brian’s pants as if their mere existence pissed him off. They swayed together, barely keeping balanced. 

_Hey, there were beds in this room._ They both came to the realization at the same time.

The wrestling match ended with Brian getting pinned on the bed closest to the window. He would have put up a better fight, but Dom kept coming up with these killer moves like ‘scrape teeth on nipples”, “stick tongue in ear”, etc. Plus that extra twenty pounds made a difference.

Dom looked so deliciously intent as he jerked at Brian’s cock. The calluses scraping his prick in all the unexpected places pulled all of the long year of Brian’s pent-up lust gushing out of him like a fountain. Brian could actually feel himself falling into blackness, his muscles turning to custard while he tried to cling to consciousness. He blinked.

Dom was turning his hand back and forth, the way a woman might admire a ring. In the faint light, bright drops of Brian’s come gleamed across Dom’s knuckles. Brian had to squeeze his eyes shut as vicious arousal snaked through his belly again so soon after a moment of satiation. He rubbed Dom’s belly with the flat of his palm and reached to squeeze Dom’s cock through his pants.

“You could fuck me, if you wanted,” Brian didn’t even try mute the eagerness in his whisper

Brian wasn’t quite sure what he had been expecting. What he hadn’t expected was for Dom to blanch, curl up convulsively and roll off the bed. Brian’s heart felt like someone was stepping on it while Dom regrouped on the floor. 

Brian rolled over and looked down at Dom who was looking pretty…poleaxed. Dom’s upper lip was curled and he glared down at his hands.

“Bad idea, huh?” Brian muttered, trying to look unconcerned.

“No, that sounds…uh, cool,” Dom kept his eyes down. “Now’s just not a good time.”

“Oh,” Brian pushed his head up on his fist. Dom shivered, stood up and staggered toward the bathroom. “So when would be a good time?”

Dom paused, leaning on the doorframe. He looked down at his crotch wryly and looked back at Brian with an exasperated expression. He grunted even gruffer than normal. “Some time when I haven’t just come in my pants. That work for you?”

“Yeah, okay,” Brian rolled onto his back and grinned loopily at the ceiling. “Sorry.”

“You’re not sorry,” Dom muttered as the door closed.

****

Trying to strip a towel off the rail while stomping himself free of his wet pants and Chucks took all of Brian’s concentration. Suddenly, the fact that he was wet and sticky made his skin crawl. He’d had to pull his jeans back up to walk and their slimy damp made his nerves jangle.

Despite the fact that he had just come, he felt itchy and on tenterhooks. He scrubbed himself vigorously dry with a towel, then wrapped it around his waist. Dom had spent about twenty five seconds stripping himself out of his clothes and Brian was sure he could beat that.

By the time Brian got back to the bedroom, Dom had snatched off the coverlet and was lying in the middle of the bed, his knees curved over the edge and his feet on the floor. He had spread his arms out until his knuckles met both sides of the bed and was examining the ceiling intently. His cock, dark, thick and full, curved almost to his navel.

The fact that Dom was just lying there, not touching himself, just waiting, Brian found almost frighteningly arousing. He was suddenly aching with hardness. 

“So, um, that…,” Brian couldn’t believe that he could still string words together. His thoughts were a jumble of _Dom, bed, naked, hard._

Dom looked at him, blinked and didn’t say anything. Brian’s hunger pulled him until he was standing at the foot of the bed. Dom spread his knees a little so Brian could get closer. Brian cupped his own cock and tried to maintain some semblance of control.

“What’s that?” Dom nodded at Brian’s other hand, but he still didn’t move.

“Uhmmmm, it’s, uh, lotion,” Brian looked down. He was amazed that he hadn’t dropped the little vials. 

Dom blinked and appeared to be waiting for an explanation. 

Brian started, “Y’know, so you could…” _Fuck me stupid_ , he couldn’t quite bring himself to say. He wondered why he felt so shy when Dom so obviously…didn’t. The electric prickle that sparked from where the outside of his knee was rubbing against the inside of Dom’s knee was making it hard to breathe, much less speak.

Dom rolled his lower lip under his upper lip. He tilted his head to the side and gave Brian an assessing look. The warmth of his palm over Brian’s wrist sent a shiver up Brian’s spine, which put him slightly off balance and allowed Dom to jerk him forward. Brian barely caught himself as he tumbled into the cradle of Dom’s body.

Dom purred, “You know, I think I gotta better idea.”

Brian held himself very still while that sank in.

****

“I don’t…uhm…” Brian struggled to fish words from the haze of pure lust. And keep his voice in the right octave. “Do you really…?” 

“What?” Dom curved one eyebrow belligerently. “This is a problem?”

Brian shook his head quickly. “No…I…just don’t wanna...you know what you’re doing?”

“Theoretically,” Dom pushed himself a little farther up the bed. He twisted his fingers gently into Brian’s towel. 

Brian continued doggedly, “We don’t have any kind of…protection.” 

Dom looked at him thoughtfully. “That wasn’t bothering you a second ago.”

Brian ran a hand through his still-damp hair. “….You got me there.”

Dom rolled his hips slowly in a way that made Brian’s teeth clench. “I’ve put my life in your hands before. And you haven’t let me down.”

“This isn’t something that most people would like….save for a second date?”

“Is that what we’re doing?” Dom said in a level tone without a hint of irony. “….dating?”

Brian swallowed. 

Dom just raised his eyebrows.

****

Less than an hour ago, he could not have imagined this. That he could actually lay fingers on Dom much less stick fingers inside Dom. He had sucked Dom’s cock until Dom dug steel claws into his shoulders and tugged his hair in a way that said clearly quit fucking around. 

In answer, Brian jerked Dom back down to the edge of the bed. He knelt on the coverlet which was bunched on the floor and pulled one of Dom’s knees up over his shoulder and pressed the edge of his teeth into Dom’s velvety sac. Dom went very still, except to gasp when Brian licked the pad of his thumb and rubbed a circle over the tight pucker. This was going to be…difficult.

Dom’s head jerked spasmodically on his neck as Brian tongued his asshole. He blasphemed quietly at the ceiling. Brian could hear the scrape of Dom’s fingernails as he dug into the sheets probably to keep from grabbing Brian’s head. Quitting smoking cold turkey did pay some unexpected dividends as Brian had absolutely no fingernails to speak of. 

He alternated tonguing with nibbling, keeping Dom a little off balance by squeezing his dick. Then he really started to apply himself. The hand lotion was surprisingly high-end, oil-based for which Brian was grateful. With liberal lubrication and patience, Brian finally managed to twist two fingers inside Dom’s tight, over-muscled ass.

By this time, Dom was panting fiercely. Brian spared a glance up at him and was struck by the fact that this was Dom. The Dom he’d never imagined he could have in a million years was writhing and sweating, impaled on his fingers. Brian curled his digits slightly and felt the shudder wave the length of Dom’s body. His own arousal was starting to make the blood behind his eyes pulse.

Dom seemed to feel his regard because his eyes fluttered open. He blinked slowly down at Brian’s flushed face and tousled hair, and curled his fingers in a beckoning gesture. 

Brian had to quickly roll back on his heels and squeeze his own cock savagely, pressing hard fingers almost to bone. Dom sat up quickly and pawed at him, “Are you all right?”

Brian wanted to laugh. And maybe he would, later. But he just squeezed Dom’s thighs and said, “You just got a little too…much for me, man.”

Dom cocked his head as if trying to decide whether Brian was being a dick. Dom’s lips were so red; he’d been gnawing on them. Brian groaned internally and managed to push Dom back into position. And started all over. By the time he got Dom loose again, Brian’s dick felt swollen and fever-hot. He wondered if he was going to be able to do this. The smell in the room thickened in his nostrils, sweat and come and rain. Every breath was making his cock swell.

Dom was huffing quick, tight breaths like he was about to bench press way too much weight. Brian pushed slowly, afraid that Dom was just going to somehow lock up and they’d be stuck together like dogs. He’d been hard for so long, that pressing slowly inside was almost as much ache as relief.

He found that he could hold on to a thin thread of control by simply not believing that any of this was actually happening. But then sweat would trickle down the back of his neck, the muscle in his calf would cramp slightly and oh shit, he was _fucking Dom_. This was too much to handle, this tight, this hot. Brian tried to pull back before he could spurt. 

“Don’t you fucking move,” Dom snarled. His eyes were bright and savage and he looked like he was pushing himself onto a knife. It made Brian feel kind of violent and sordid, like a rapist. Dom looked like he was trying to concentrate on something else to make the burn bearable and Brian cast around for a way to pull the connection tight between them once again. 

“You look so hot,” Brian started, tentatively. It was slightly easier to control if he tried to articulate what he was feeling.

Dom wiped the sweat out of his eyes and squinted at Brian. Brian continued, “Like my wildest porn dreams come true.”

He slid his hands up Dom’s straining flanks and pinched both nipples gently.

“I keep expecting to wake up really, really sticky,” Brian concluded. Dom’s breath broke on a gasping laugh.

Suddenly, Dom arched his back and raked his fingers into the sheets so hard that Brian could hear them tear. Brian froze at that angle and then bobbed gently. Dom grunted, drawing air in quick. And his flagging erection started to fill, lazily.

Brian stroked his thumb up the long vein of Dom’s cock while shifting his hips fractionally. “See, there’s a point to this.” 

Dom glared at him. “Shut up and do that again.”

****

It was good that it hurt. It should hurt. Everything hurt when it changed. 

It hurt to slide out of your mother into this world. The blackness that had sucked him down when the flames roared up around his father, that had hurt. It had hurt like hell when he’d pulled himself out of the metal coffin of the Charger. 

Pain was the natural prelude for every change. So he exhaled the breath he’d been holding and let Brian hurt him just a little. 

Watching Brian distracted him from the rather alarming violation of his body. Brian’s eyelids fluttered when he was fully sheathed, his mouth slackened completely and he moaned. He looked like someone had just shot him full of heroin and he wasn’t even thrusting yet. The flush on his face and neck spread down past his nipples. 

It was odd. Being able to see Brian like this made him feel, despite all evidence to the contrary, more possessor than possessed. Brian sloppily pressed his lips to the inside of Dom’s knee, still too blissed out to purse his lips for a proper kiss. Dom had expected to feel fragile doing this; he hadn’t expected to feel quite so much power. He unbent a little and curled his right leg around Brian’s thighs.

He’d been concentrating so hard on not moving and relaxing that the pleasure when it came caught him blindsided. A sudden jolt twitched through him, stronger than the first orgasm he’d ever had, it made his eyes close involuntarily. That brought Brian out of his haze for a second, his smile was dazzling.

Dom realized that this was the way he wanted all sexual encounters to be from now on. This was the closest that sex had ever come to approaching that quarter-mile feeling. He realized that he’d never before existed quite so in the right now as he was at this moment. He concentrated on nothing but the feeling and Brian’s face.

By now, Brian looked like he was in pain too, his face was furrowed with intensity and he was covered by a light sheen of sweat. He sounded like he was about to hyperventilate.

Dom tentatively reached up and stroked his hands over Brian’s straining shoulders, trying to communicate silently that Brian should relax a little. But Brian just breathed harder, and then started to gasp. Curling his back thrummed another of those white-hot flashes through Dom and little spots danced in his vision. Dom reached up and wiped the sweat off Brian’s forehead, then tugged gently at his own cock. The dual feeling tightened through his groin and he took a full breath to make it last a little longer. 

Brian tried to bite his lip, but his gasps kept breaking through. It was astonishingly hot, seeing Brian in such an advanced state of …meltdown. He was so flushed, he looked sunburned and it made his eyes blaze like flame. Dom spread his legs a little wider, let his weight pull his heavy limbs apart. Brian paused, teetering, for a long second. Dom tightened his grip on himself and realized just how close he was to coming. 

Brian’s face crumpled, it looked like pain, like agony but for the fact that he was muttering,   
ah, yeah. And then very softly please. 

It was the little ‘please’ that finished Dom, he felt his body harden completely for one moment and then he was liquid, he was overflowing. 

****

Brian came awake and blinked up at the ceiling. The cottage cheese stucco shifted under the shadow of the rotating fan. Brian didn’t normally sleep on his back and the air felt different. He had a flash of whereamI until he caught the scent and saw Dom’s hand tangled up in the snowy white of the sheets. 

Dom’s heavy thigh with the short prickle of hair was just the thing to nudge his morning erection against. Dom had draped his arm and one leg over Brian, more on top of him than not. Brian reflected that if he were Letty-sized he would have found this overwhelmingly heavy and hard to breathe. At his own size, Dom’s heat and weight were perfectly suited to keep the air-conditioned chill at bay. He stretched a little and rubbed his jaw along Dom’s forehead feeling the slight rasp of dual stubble.

Dom woke suddenly with a sharp, indrawn breath. He tightened his grip, raising his head about six inches to look blearily up at Brian. Brian stiffened involuntarily, knowing that this was the moment when Dom could do or say at least a dozen things that would hurt like hell. Dom’s eyes were dark and unreadable in the half-hearted light of dawn. 

Dom yawned tiger-like and then snugged his head even firmer into the curve of Brian’s neck. “Temomin,” came a murmured exhalation over the hollow of Brian’s throat. 

“Huh?” Brian tilted his chin away so Dom could hear him.

Dom swallowed experimentally and enunciated. “Ten more minutes.”

To his own ears, Brian’s voice sounded rough. “You got somewhere you gotta be?” 

“’s not …” Dom’s voice made Brian’s skin vibrate. “Just need a little more….” Dom’s relaxing weight seemed to roll over him like a wave.

“Yeah?” Brian discovered he could just press the side of his mouth to the top of Dom’s head without jabbing Dom with his chin.

Dom pressed the edges of his teeth into Brian's clavicle. "…plans. I got plans."

“Oh shit,” Brian said. Joy suffused him like fever. He marinated in the feeling for ten whole minutes. 

****

“Please, could we…please,” Brian gasped later. 

“Please what?” Dom raised his head and scowled a little. 

“I’m kinda….” Brian unclenched his fingers and tried to form words.

Dom seemed to decide that Brian was taking too long and bit him on the lower curve of his ribcage. Brian grunted and cupped Dom’s head.

“I’m starving,” Brian confessed. “Are we gonna…” 

Dom stopped what he was doing and the hot, tight pleasure-pain of trying to come for the third time receded. 

“Are we gonna what?” Dom drew himself up, leaning hard on his bent elbow. He kept his other hand spread over Brian’s stomach.

“Eat?” Brian gestured at the ceiling. “Drink something?” Act like normal human beings?

Dom seemed to consider the idea, and then he grinned. “Mmmm, yeah. Eat something.” 

Dom brushed his chin over Brian’s ribs reaching for the bedside table. He pulled out the phone book and flipped around for a few seconds, nudging Brian gently closer to the middle of the bed. He sat up and picked up the room’s phone with a little ‘ching’. Dom ordered breakfast with an economy of words and time that Brian found impressive considering that he didn’t have a menu and had just picked a place that said ‘Delivery’ at random.

“You don’t wanna go out?” Brian said neutrally, when Dom had put the phone down. 

“Clothes are still wet. Plus you might find that they take that ‘No shirt, no shoes, no service’ shit pretty seriously down here.” Dom grunted. He rolled slowly back down on the bed, like each of his spinal vertebrae was on a track. Brian unconsciously stroked Dom’s midriff, smoothness over hardness. “Gotta have standards, I guess.”

“I forgot,” Brian nodded. “Guess we can’t leave.”

“Flimsy.” Dom rocked his head assessing. “Kinda weak. But it is an excuse.”

“Whatever works,” Brian ran an experimental hand over Dom’s crotch. Dom was still half hard, defying all of his morning efforts. Dom had spent the morning so quietly intent, not talking a lot. Watching Brian too attentively in the edges of times when they weren’t actively focused on getting each other off. 

“This is tough. Kinda.” Brian blurted out. 

Dom’s forehead crinkled. “What’s tough?”

“It’s just kinda fucking with my worldview,” Brian continued.

Dom stopped looking at Brian sideways and shifted his gaze to the ceiling fan. “Which worldview is that?”

“The worldview where you suck cock so well,” Brian said flatly. “And with such enthusiasm.”

Dom stuck his thumb in his mouth, nibbling at his knuckle and Brian could see that he was fighting to keep a straight face. 

“I never thought you would…” Brian trailed off. 

“Yeah, you know, that makes two of us,” Dom shut his eyes with a sigh. Brian watched him breathe for about ten minutes. 

Dom finally pushed himself up, wincing, like being fully upright sent twinges through him. 

Brian thought _I did that_. Something about the thought made his head float in wonder while some muscle under his groin clenched.

Dom went to the bathroom and came out buttoning his still-wet jeans. Just then there was a knock at the door and Dom retreated into the hallway. He came back laden with paper bags. 

“Righteous,” Brian snaked fully out of the bed for the first time that day and unconsciously wrapped a towel around himself. He was starving and everything tasted so good that he almost didn’t want to pause to chew it.

Dom watched him eat for a second, then dug in himself. For a while there was nothing but the crackle of bags and the sound of chewing. After they had laid waste to most of the food, Brian muttered, “What time is it, anyway?”

“Dunno,” Dom shrugged. “Is it important?”

“Mmmmhmmm,” Brian wiped his mouth. “Just curious. So I got an idea. Tell me if you like this.” 

“All ears,” Dom sounded amused. He stood up and flicked at a gap in the curtains. 

“Look,” Brian tapped at a brochure from the stack in the nightstand’s drawer. “They rent windsurfing equipment here. Kitesurfing, too. We could go downstairs and get them to hook us up. Catch some serious air. Or….maybe jetskis?”

One corner of Dom’s mouth curled up, so Brian relaxed back into the bed and continued. “Or I saw a mini-golf course about three miles back. I am, like, the Tiger Woods of mini-golf. I’ll give you three strokes.” 

Dom arched his eyebrows.

“Just in the interest of fairness.” Brian arched his own eyebrows, innocently. “Or we could charter something, do some fishing. Rent a catamaran. Or cigar boat, maybe.”

“It’s still raining,” Dom nudged back the curtain with a small flourish.

“Huh,” Brian wriggled his shoulders deeper into the bedclothes. He spread his arms out over the wreckage of the bed. “Well, that’s cool. I didn’t want to do any of that other stuff anyway.” 

“So,” Dom turned away from the window and sat on the edge of the bed. “What did you want to do?”

****

When he wasn’t in a desperate rush of lust, Dom kissed very deliberately. It felt like he _set_ or _placed_ his mouth on things. His fingers spidered lightly over Brian’s jaw. It was very seductive and kind of annoying.

Being held down and kissed was kind of a little too weird. Brian was tempted to squirm and struggle a little, but he had no leverage. Dom was more than half on top of him. Then Dom added insult to injury by stroking his hair a little. Brian squeezed Dom’s hips viciously and nipped Dom on his lower lip. Dom pulled back for a second, looking puzzled and slightly hurt. 

“Do that again and I’m gonna kick your ass,” Brian said very factually. 

Dom grinned suddenly like that was the best offer he’d had all day. “What, this?” He carded his fingers through the hair over Brian’s ear gently. Brian twisted his head and snapped at Dom’s wrist. He canted his hips up into Dom’s with a fierce thrust. Annoyed as he was, it wasn’t keeping him from getting hard.

“Stop it,” Brian growled.

Dom’s grin subsided and he looked serious. “Does this still hurt?” He stroked a thumb high over Brian’s cheekbone. Startled, Brian rubbed his own finger in the circle under his eye. Feeling the slight ache, he shrugged. Both his eyes were lavender-purple underneath, two black eyes were pretty common relics of a broken nose. He hadn’t thought about it until now

“Yeah, it hurts,” Brian couldn’t lie. “So what?”

Dom shifted slightly and nabbed one more gentle peck, like he was getting away with something. Then he grinned at Brian kind of mischievously, and his hands tightened. Brian could feel the exact moment when Dom let his mouth harden with hunger. His nose pressed hard into Brian’s cheekbone and it radiated a slight ache. 

It felt great. 

****

Brian wrapped his hand around Dom’s neck and concentrated on the white heat that flared up behind his eyelids whenever Dom rocked forward. He cupped the other hand over his own cock, stroking with intent. 

Dom obviously felt Brian’s knuckles brush his belly, his eyes flew open. They were so dark and shiny….all of Dom’s surfaces gleamed: his body with sweat, his eyes with arousal. He leaned hard on his left side, so he could squeeze his hand over Brian’s. 

Brian wondered what would happen if he relaxed completely, what would happen if he just let his weight slide around, if he stopped holding himself so taut. He caught Dom’s eyes, just as they fluttered shut. Dom groaned aloud when he felt Brian’s unloosening. Brian softening seemed to make him harder, his fingers dug into Brian’s flanks like spikes. Suddenly, Brian felt a shocking internal warmth that felt like his own muscles liquefying. 

Dom paused for a long moment, then seemed to harden again. He batted Brian’s hand away and jacked Brian as steady as a pulse. Brian clutched at Dom’s hips as Dom stroked his thumb luxuriously slowly up the underside of Brian’s cock. 

Brian realized that he hadn’t actually been looking at Dom’s face when he came and the sudden flash of disappointment was as intense as it was short-lived. When Dom touched his tongue to his lower lip, Brian relaxed completely and came on his chest. 

When he opened his eyes, Dom was looking at him, blinking tiredly. He seemed almost caught off guard. 

Brian stretched, feeling both the burn of his muscles and the cool ooze of come. Dom collapsed in a curl beside him, and dabbed at him with his towel. Leaning over, Brian flicked off the light.

****

Much, much later, Brian woke up from a deep, black nap and watched the surreal spectacle of Dom sewing up the side seam of his t-shirt, equipped from a sewing kit obviously cadged from housekeeping. 

“We got a late checkout?” Brian asked gruffly, throat thick with sleep.

“We got another night,” Dom didn’t look at Brian. His long fingers holding a needle looked like a sledgehammer hovering over a pushpin. 

“I gotta…” Brian blinked and paused. “I should go to work tomorrow.” He wondered if he’d put enough doubt in the sentence to make Dom talk him out of it. 

Dom glanced up and said mildly, “So we leave early. Don’t want Rome getting his panties in a twist.”

Brian groaned and pulled a pillow over his face. Then he rolled over on it and watched because really, Dom sewing? Better than television. 

Dom bit through the last threads and handed Brian his shirt without making eye contact. 

“Hey, that really works,” Brian pulled the shirt on gently and plucked delicately at the seam. “You really can fix anything.” It was stitched like Frankenstein’s monster and wouldn’t hold up to much scrutiny, but it would get him through the door at least. He picked his jeans up off the air conditioner. They were dry, if barely. 

Dom snorted and rolled his eyes. He brandished four twenties. “Mine’s ruined. Go, forage. I want meat and Dr. Pepper. Think I saw a Target a little south of here. XXL.” 

“Shit, I knew that,” Brian stood expectantly until Dom raised his eyebrows and tucked the cash into Brian’s front pocket. Then he kissed Dom six times from his ear to his mouth. Dom pulled back, shaking his head, but still not quite able to hide his grin. 

Brian held out his hand. When Dom gave him a blank look, he raised his eyebrows, “I ain’t walking, bro.”

Dom raised his eyebrows back and hesitated for a second. Brian rocked back on his heels and looked at the ceiling. He said, almost to himself. “You’ll let me fuck you, but you won’t let me drive your car? That’s kind of backwards, don’t you think?”

Dom grunted and one side of his mouth twisted up. He handed over the keys grudgingly, “Guess when you put it like that, at least the car is insured.”

“I will be as sweet to her as I was to you.” Brian promised. “You ain’t even gonna notice I’m gone,”

Dom chuckled and shook his head again, disbelievingly.

****

“So,” Brian tipped up the last of his beer. “You never answered my question.”

Dom just looked over at him over the remains of another takeaway meal. The silence lengthened until Brian set his empty beer bottle down on the glass-topped coffee table with a clatter.

“So?’ Brian prompted. 

“I’m just…” Dom rumbled. “…thinking of the last question you asked me.” 

Brought up short, Brian blinked. He felt a little heat creep up his neck. Some of his sex talk had gotten awfully garbled and question-like: his last question might’ve been something like ‘Who’s your daddy?’

Brian tightened his focus on Dom. He rubbed his knuckles against Dom’s as Dom cupped his own bottle. He pitched his voice low. “Why are you here?”

“A lot of reasons,” Dom said cagily. He stood up and walked to the edge of their balcony.

“Tell me one,” Brian didn’t give an inch.

Dom leaned on the balcony railing looking out at the palm frond-framed courtyard. The rain had mostly stopped, but an occasional gust of wind still sent a patter of drops into the pool. The fading light from the cloud-strewn sky threw a palm-tree-shaped shadow on their balcony. 

Dom nodded to himself. He turned and leaned back, bracing his hands on the railing. “There was this guy I knew in prison.”

Brian stiffened unconsciously. 

Dom looked askance for a second. Brian raised his eyebrows, “Am I sure I want to hear this story?”

Dom paused for a second, then chuckled. “Sorry. I didn’t think about the, uh…context.” He caught Brian’s eye again and then rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “Forget it.”

“C’mon, give,” Brian leaned on his hand and stretched his legs out on the lounge.

Dom looked dubious and then continued, “A’right. So his name was Luis, he was one of the cooler Pico Locos, from Union Street. Which made us practically neighbors at the L.”

“So you were friendly.” Brian surmised.

“Yeah, but not really friends.” Dom smiled wryly. “Me not being down with la Eme. He was older. Long bit, not quite life, but up there.”

“What was his beef?” Brian watched Dom’s face closely. 

“I don’t even remember,” Dom shrugged. “Possible he didn’t either.”

Dom rubbed his chin. “He helped me out of a couple of jams. There are some guys up there; crazy is too sane a word for them. Sometimes you just get into shit. And he got my back and he didn’t have to.”

Brian tried to keep his posture relaxed. Then he did relax. Dom was here, not there. Everything was copacetic. 

“So, I owed him.” Dom continued meditatively. “So we’d talk. And he was up for parole around the same time I was. And he got real close to getting out, and I heard he’d gotten real close before, but he kept fucking it up. At the time, I just thought it was bad luck. But after a while I realized he was doing it to himself.” 

“You know what I mean?” Dom leveled his gaze at Brian. His new t-shirt was almost painfully white.

“Spell it out for me,” Brian returned. 

“He didn’t want to get out,” Dom muttered. “Freedom was just too much responsibility.”

Brian just stared, wondering what he was supposed to say. Dom seemed to have drifted away into a thought or a memory. After a few long minutes, he stirred.

“Luis was a cold motherfucker,” Dom enunciated. “And he wasn’t afraid of dying, but he was terrified of living.” 

Brian watched as Dom took a breath that made him seem momentarily a foot wider. “Shit like that is a lot easier to see from the outside. Sometimes it takes someone outside to make you see it.”

Dom folded his arms around himself and Brian breathed a silent prayer, please keep talking.

And after a moment, Dom continued, “It’s like…God was watching me, watching me fight for what I wanted. And He’s watching and laughing. Because after I’d gotten the stupid shit I wanted…I just…”

“You just start wanting something else,” Brian finished. 

“So…” Dom paused. “I’m not saying this very well.”

Brian shook his head. 

“I…just don’t want…” Dom made a helpless gesture. “To be afraid of what I want.”

Brian felt his jaw tightening, his face tightening. He looked away quickly and blinked. His voice sounded rough. “So you came here.”

“You’re the bravest person I know.” Dom smiled then, so sweet it ached. “Or at least the most reckless.”

“That’s me,” Brian said faintly.

Dom pushed himself off the railing and sat down on the lounge chair between Brian’s knees. “So show me that trick.”

****

They drove back to Miami in silence that seemed to get more silent as they got closer to the city. Rush hour was completely entrenched, the last mile before Brian’s exit went at a crawl. Brian lolled over the bench seat, sunglasses firmly in place, savoring choice flashes of why they’d gotten such a late start. 

Sincerely, all he’d wanted was a shower. He cut his eyes over at Dom and smirked. OK, he couldn’t sell that story to anyone, least of all himself. Brian traced two fingers over the bite mark under his collar. Dom tilted his head marginally and shifted on the seat. His sunglasses kept his thoughts private, but he was still slouched almost too casually.

They were about ten minutes away. Brian contemplated turning on his cell phone. He sighed involuntarily. 

Dom rumbled unexpectedly, “Busy week?”

Brian tilted his head side to side. “Could be.” 

Dom pushed his sunglasses up and looked at him intently. “You should take some time off, maybe. Take a little vacation.”

Rome had said that to him before he’d left. Brian swallowed to keep from saying, ‘Just keep driving’. What he said instead was, “I got some stuff …committed. Parts coming in. They need me.” 

Dom didn’t say anything, just nodded slowly. He pulled up on the street outside the lot. Lot was already pretty crowded. 

Brian started slowly, “Hey you got anywhere you need to be? You wanna come in?”

Dom chuckled. “I want to….but, uh.” He shook his head. “Don’t wanna give the man an aneurysm.” 

“Think you’re overestimating how much he gives a shit,” Brian half shrugged. Some small part of him was glad though…he liked this feeling and he didn’t want it rubbed raw with too much scrutiny. 

Dom snorted, “That’s a joke, right? If anything, I’m underestimating.”

“Then you’re overestimating how much I give a shit,” Brian leaned his head back and tilted his chin up. Unconsciously, Dom mimicked him which made it easy to slide across the bench seat and kiss him. 

Dom sucked on Brian’s lower lip for a whole second before stiffening and opening his eyes fully. He rolled his eyes pointedly at the busy rush-hour street around them. Dom pulled back, half-kissed. Brian bared his teeth at him and Dom shrugged sheepishly. 

Brian just looked at him for a long second. Dom rolled his head back on the seat and lowered his eyelids to half-mast. He reached over and hooked a finger under Brian’s string bracelet, tugging on it gently. 

The temptation to cup Dom’s hand, guide it to his mouth or his crotch swept over Brian like little tongues of flame. He was almost stiff with painful want. It took more willpower than he knew he had just to tease his thumb gently along the back of Dom’s hand. 

“Right,” Cool. Meal ticket. Brian readjusted his sunglasses, slapped his pockets and creaked the door open. “Later.”  
He shut the door firmly and got almost ten steps towards the lot before he realized that Dom was trailing him in the Plymouth and trying to get his attention without yelling. 

“Yeah?” Brian paused on the sidewalk. Dom beckoned to him and he found himself by the driver’s side door. 

Dom just looked up at him, searchingly, like he was trying to find a way out of a tight corner. 

Brian slouched, letting himself be looked at. Dom leaned close for a second and his scent made Brian shove his hands deeper into his pockets. 

Dom said low, “I got some stuff I need to do. I might get a little ….incommunicado for a while.”

Bran nodded. “Well you know where to find me.” 

Dom stroked his lower lip and muttered. “Yeah.”

****

“You’re fucking late. Where the fuck have you been? What the fuck, Brian?” Say what you would about Roman Pearce: bottling up emotions was not one of his flaws.

Every time Roman said the word ‘fuck’ Brian got an exceptionally vivid mental picture from the highlight reel of his weekend. So he stayed silent while Rome’s tirade wound down. Eventually Rome just stood, wetting his lips, obviously weighing whether he wanted to truly lose his shit or play it cool. As Brian had anticipated, cool won out. Rome shrugged elaborately. A customer was framed in the bright light pouring in from the arch at the front of the garage.

“Whatever,” Rome grimaced. “Thanks for showing up.” 

Brian made his stance communicate just exactly how rich that was coming from that paragon of punctuality: Mr Roman Pearce. Rome hissed in annoyance and went to help the customer and Brian went to track their parts delivery online. 

Rome grumbled at him, on and off for the rest of the morning. Brian found it easy to ignore, adept after almost 20 years of practice. 

Late in the day, Brian had lost himself in trying to wire up the harness for a Dynotune boost gauge. It soothed him somehow, taking too much of his consciousness to start to brood, but not so much that he couldn’t enjoy little flushes of sense memory. Leaning on his elbow, the harness pressed into his collarbone, nudging the spot where Dom had sucked until he was sore.

“Brian!” Rome’s aggravated shout penetrated unexpectedly. Sounded like he’d been yelling for a while.

“Yeah, what?” Brian snapped. “I got my hands full here.”

“And you can’t answer a simple question?” Rome snarled back. “Did that fucking Vortech SC come in?” 

“Tomorrow,” Brian said shortly. “I told him to pickup on Thursday. Remind him I said that.”

Rome stood over him, shifting his weight a little like he wanted to argue but he couldn’t find an opening. Suddenly, he stilled and it was like the air changed. 

Brian finished mounting the harness. He glanced up at Rome warily. Rome had raised his eyebrows and rocked back on his heels a little. The phone was cradled in the hollow where his neck met his shoulder.

“You got lucky this weekend,” Rome didn’t say this like he was asking. 

Brian rubbed the back of his neck absently. Yeah, that spot was gonna require a shirt with a collar. He stiffened a little, waiting for Rome to give him shit about it. “Maybe I did.”

Brian could feel his shoulders tightening up. Was he ready now? This was gonna be a throw down, no mistake. But Rome was grinning, oblivious. 

“’Bout time, playah,” Rome shook his head, looking kind of affectionately fed up. “You know that’s all you had to say.”

He slapped Brian gently on the shoulder and strode off, barking into the phone. 

****

“Mia?”

“Heeey, Big D.” She sounded happy to hear from him. He could imagine her wrestling bags of groceries past the doorframe of her apartment, hair welling over her shoulders while she balanced the phone precariously between her ear and shoulder. “How’s it going?”

“Yeah,” Dom looked down at his feet. “It’s going. It’s okay.”

There was a space, a pause. He suspected she might be trying not to let him hear her laugh.

“So, Tia Mia,” Nostalgia tightened his throat. She’d been such a grown-up little girl all full of confiding advice. “Wanted to see what you thought about…”

****

Monday got stacked up with work and the Rome wanted his help repo’ing a Hummer. Tuesday saw the entire male half of an extended Cuban clan come in wanting chrome headers and clear Makrolon hoods. Wednesday, Brian dumped the work orders into a shoebox and left at five. He picked up food on the way home, enough for two dinner and lunch the following day. Sun was still out, but low…the endless Miami summer was slowly inching into fall. He ate up on the roof of the houseboat, contemplating his cell phone. 

Dom’s number was in there. He could just call. 

He frowned at the phone and it looked back up at him, innocent and blank.

“You got any more of those?” Rome slid into the other chair and grabbed the other tightly wrapped medianoche out of the bag. He was chewing before Brian could open his mouth to protest. Brian sighed and passed over the bag of banana chips. 

“Tej n’ Suki and the crew are going to Orlando this weekend,” Rome laughed like Eddie Murphy. Brian wasn’t sure what was funny. 

“Why?” Brian took a sip of his soda and tried to ignore his non-ringing phone. 

Rome shrugged, “Suki’s got it in her head that she’s gonna find some artistic inspiration at the Magic Kingdom.”

“Well,” Brian dug his straw deeper into his drink and slurped the last of it. “It is the happiest place on earth.” 

“Yeah,” Rome said dryly. “Maybe I should take you. They can show you how it’s done.”

“Sweet of you,” Brian batted his eyelashes and grinned tightly. 

Rome gave him a long look. “Yeah, you got everybody fooled. But not me.” He chewed for a while, unimpeded by Brian’s silence. “Not me.”

“That so?” Brian said dryly.

“Oh yeah,” Rome nodded slowly. “Where’s your boyfriend? Ain’t seen him around in a while.”

Rome was just joking. But something about the casual way Rome said it, sliced across Brian’s heart like a razor. He almost snorted with the sudden sting.

“Dunno,” Brian soaked his words in sarcasm. “He’s probably off fucking some other dude.”

Rome stopped chewing. Brian froze too. For some reason, that hadn’t come out sounding as throwaway as he’d meant it to.

“Huh,” Rome said, looking down at his half-eaten sandwich. When Rome set the sandwich down carefully on the cooler they were using as a coffee table, Brian’s stomach contracted so hard he could almost feel the edges of the food he’d just eaten.

“Oh, shit,” Rome’s face was completely blank, but his eyes were just flashing. Brian could see him putting two and two together and getting twenty-two. Rome pushed himself up from the chair bobbing his head slightly. 

“Rome,” Brian said low and full of warning.

Rome was shaking his head now. His breath was getting deeper and faster.

“Rome,” Brian said again, urgently. He stood up, bracing himself slightly.

“I just….” Rome looked up at Brian. Now his face was blank and lost. “I can’t…”

“Rome!” Brian flung the word at Rome’s back. Rome was halfway down the stairs before Brian could unfreeze enough to react. Brian leaned on the railing and watched Rome whiz down the gangplank. Brian watched stonily as Rome reversed with a screech and his headlights flashed up, piercing the indigo dusk with fierce halogen white.

****

It rang four times, long enough for Brian’s guts to twist into a pretzel.

“Hey!” Dom’s voice was unexpected loud in his ear. There was music in the background but it cut out abruptly.

“Hey,” Brian drawled. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. 

“What’s going on?” Dom’s voice kept changing volume. Brian realized that he must not be actually holding the phone. He heard the muffled blare of a horn.

“You on the road?” Brian listened harder. If this were some forensic mystery, he’d be able to pinpoint Dom’s location by listening to the background noise. Sounded like Dom was on a freeway. Which narrowed down Dom’s loc to just about anywhere.

“Yeah, let me just….Christ, that was fucking…” Dom growled half into the phone. “Beautiful.”

“Safe for you to talk?” Brian tried to sound suitably indifferent.

“Yeah, I’m just gonna…” Dom paused. The ambient noise seemed to mute slightly. Dom muttered something that sounded like, “Move it or I’ll move it for you.” 

“Vehicular manslaughter’s three to five years,” Brian chimed in and the muscles in his chest expanded when Dom chuckled. “Just saying.”

“I’m good now,” Dom’s voice got crisper. “Safe on the shoulder.” 

“Shit, I could just call back…” Brian offered. His heart sank.

“Drive can wait,” Dom said gently. “So how you doing?”

“Outstanding,” Brian lied easily. “Work’s kind of shit though.”

Dom chuckled. “’S the price of being good.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Brian snorted. “So how are you doing?” 

“Better now,” Dom said simply and Brian’s stomach tightened again, but it was good this time, it was golden.

“Good,” Brian muttered. The conversation plateau-ed into silence. Brian mulled the best way to ask Dom where he was going and (if) when he was coming back without actually saying anything that sounded like he actually cared. 

“Shit,” Dom sounded like he was stretching. “I hadn’t realized how late it was. Been pretty busy.”

“Yeah?” Brian let the pause lengthen. _Do tell?_

“Yeah, non-stop,” Dom said, refusing to be drawn. “What are you doing now?”

“Nothing much,” Brian lay down on his rumpled bed. “Thinking about sacking out. I’m beat like a drum.”

“So you’re in bed?” And Dom’s voice dipped down into a register called ‘purr’. 

Brian stopped trying to make himself comfortable and gripped the phone a little tighter. 

“Yeah,” Brian drew the word out into a sentence.

“You already showered?” Dom’s voice seemed to take those innocuous little words and put them into bondage gear. Brian shivered. He had showered, but it had been brief, cold and functional. He wiggled his shoulders deeper into the covers and breathed, “Yeah.”

“Are you still wet?” Dom gave the question an edge of tease.

“Yeah,” Brian said in a very small voice. His head (both of them) was suddenly pounding with blood. 

“Where?” 

Brian blinked. Maybe it was the sudden lust haze descending, but that question didn’t make much sense. He repeated stupidly, “Where?”

“Where are you still wet?” Dom asked very slowly, putting spaces between each word.

“uhm,” Brian looked down at himself. “Backs of my knees.” 

“Yeah?” Dom prompted.

“My stomach,” Brian touched himself almost involuntarily. “Anywhere there’s hair.”

“And where’s that?” There was no mistaking the tease in that question.

“I think you know,” Brian teased back. He reached into his boxers and gave himself a firm tug. No shame. None at all.

“I’m just trying to imagine it,” Dom voice had gotten not deeper, but rougher. 

“Try harder,” Brian knew he could only say short sentences now. Anything longer and his voice would shake.

“C’mon,” Dom cajoled. “It’s already pretty hard.”

Instead of laughing at the goofy innuendo, Brian just closed his eyes. He made a little hollow in the pillow so he could have both hands free. He traced his left hand over his ribcage and tapped his sternum with his thumb. “Yeah, well…”

“You’ve stopped holding the phone,” Dom almost whispered. Brian sucked a quick breath in. Dom must’ve been holding his phone very tightly…Brian could hear him breathing. Dom continued in a half-whisper, “What’s that other hand doing?”

“Nothing,” Brian tilted his chin up coyly.

“Liar,” Dom made it an endearment. 

Brian grinned to himself. His breath was making his stomach tremble. Or maybe it was Dom’s voice. “I’m-I'm touching my stomach.”

“Fingers or hand?” 

“Fingers,” Brian wondered if he sounded shy. Oddly, he felt shy.

“Ah,” Dom said like it was significant. “It’s getting cool out here. All this breeze. Is it cool there?”

“It was,” Brian swallowed. “Now it’s not.”

Dom chuckled appreciatively. “Where’s it warmest?”

“Where my hand is,” Brian returned. 

“Mmmmmm,” Dom paused. “Wish I was there.”

Brian took a deep, luxurious breath. “Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Dom gave one syllable enough sincerity for a paragraph.

Brian stroked himself gently until his breath evened out and he could dare a sentence. “That’s a fast car you’ve got.” 

Dom’s breath stopped echoing in his ear for a second. “Very true.”

“And you know where to find me,” Brian could purr too, when the spirit moved. 

Dom chuckled with a hint of regret, “Don’t wanna make you wait up for me. You do sound tired. And I’m a couple of hours out still.” 

“I could wait,” Brian rolled onto his side, pressing the phone into his ear painfully hard.

“Yeah?” Dom sounded so warm and sweet it made Brian relax completely.

“You bet,” Brian breathed.

“Maybe I should…” Dom cut himself off. “Oh shit.”

“What is it?” Brian clutched the phone and twisted into a sitting position.

“Highway patrolman.” Dom sounded tense. “Thinks I’ve broken down, I guess.”

“Shit,” Brian’s brain started scrolling through his memories, struggling to remember if there were still warrants out for Dom. “Is it gonna be cool?”

“Ah.” Dom sounded a little out of breath. “Well, if he runs my plates, I won’t get arrested for public indecency.”

Brian’s mind was working so furiously, it took him a second to grasp the significance of that. He bit his tongue to keep from laughing hysterically. “But it’ll be cool, right?”

“Oh yeah,” Dom started to sound more relaxed. “I’m clean.”

A professionally neutral voice in the background said, “Good evening, sir. Having problems with your vehicle?” 

Dom whispered quickly, “Like you.” 

Then his voice projected. “No problems, just stopped to make a call.”

Before the phone clicked off, Brian heard the cop say earnestly, “Sir, if only every motorist would take a page out of your book, we’d…”

Brian lay back and laughed until his chest hurt. Then he went and took a longer shower. This time, he savored it.

****

Rome didn’t show up the next day. At 10 AM, Brian considered calling him. Then he shrugged and went back to work. Every customer who showed up seemed to sense that this wasn’t Brian’s day for idle chit-chat. Mercifully, walk-in traffic was light. But Friday would be a beast without a second pair of hands. By mid-afternoon, Brian felt done in, sheened with grease and sweat.

Brian sighed to himself. He was going to have to go find Rome and they were going to have to talk and maybe yell and it was just all too…

His cell phone rang. Gingerly, he fished it out of his pocket. Tej.

“What up, Tej?”

Tej sounded dryer than normal. “Can you come and get your boy here?”

“Where’s here?” Brian said instantly, thinking which boy?

“Over at my place,” Tej paused and Brian could practically hear him frowning. “He’s had a few.”

“It’s four o’clock,” Brian said flatly, looking up at the clock.

“Exactly,” Tej said. “If I had to estimate, I’d guess he started around four. AM.”

“I’m coming,” Brian sighed again. He quickly scrubbed the grease off his hands, flipped the sign over and rolled the doors down. Even being in the Skyline didn’t take away the faint sense of dread. He really didn’t want to have a knock down, drag out fight with Rome in front of Tej and everybody. 

The crowd was relatively light over at Tej’s and they all looked relieved when Brian showed up. Brian paused and bumped fists with Jimmy, Nejo and Saskia. He didn’t want to be too obvious about his mission. 

While he was making conversation, a faint caterwaul bounced across the canal. 

Jimmy winced, “Man, he’s too drunk to rap, that’s for sure.”

“Oh fuck,” Brian rubbed his eyes. “He’s at rap stage?” 

“Been there for about an hour,” Nejo confirmed unhappily. “Can you do something?”

“Dunno,” Brian said honestly. Just then Tej strode out of the houseboat and made a beeline for Brian. 

Tej said only, “He falls into the canal, he might not be able to get out, yo. Don’t want him to hit his head.” Tej stopped and listened to what was unmistakably Rome trying to rap. “Or maybe I do.”

Brian just looked the question, so Tej jerked a thumb back at the boat.

When he got a little closer, Brian could see Rome tottering around on the houseboat’s roof, straddling the railing and bobbing dizzily in time with the waves. When Rome saw Brian he started a fresh riff, “Here comes Blondie, all James Bondie….cool like Fonzie…”

“Man, you suck,” Brian stood with his hands in his pockets. The boat kept swaying so he had to keep balanced on the balls of his feet. 

“Yeah, so do you,” Rome had peeled off his shirt and his tats looked fierce and angry in the bright sun. “Difference is, I ain’t making it a lifestyle.”

Brian almost cast a glance back to see if they had an audience, but then his fury made him indifferent. “That’s what this is then? Little homophobic meltdown? How fucking boring.”

Rome bounced on his heels like an angry jackhammer. The boat shook. 

“Why the fuck have you gotta be doing this to me, man?” Rome’s face had twisted, he almost looked ready to cry. “We have it so good here and things are getting…right, for the first time in, like, a long time and you’ve just gotta…”

“Be happy?” Brian asked flatly.

Rome stopped and swallowed. He seemed to notice the bottle he was holding (it was clear, so Brian was guessing it was rum) and took a big gulp. “You do this and things are gonna fuck up right, left and center.” 

Rome swayed a little. Brian moved closer so he could grab Rome if Rome started to slide into the canal. Rome recoiled, “Don’t fucking touch me.”

Supercharged fury made Brian feel like he was going to pop. He wanted to shove Rome into the water. Brian snarled, “I forgot, you’re the one who likes to do the touching.”

Rome flared his nostrils. “Don’t go there.”

“Why not?” Brian said softly. “You almost always do.”

Rome bit his lower lip and shook his head. That twisted look was back on his face. Brian wondered what he would do if Rome actually shed tears. “I can’t do this, man.”

“Why not?” As quickly as it had come, Brian’s anger seeped away. “What do you think I’m asking you to do?”

“It’s just…” Rome took another swallow of liquid courage. He mumbled, “Gonna get all complicated.” 

“It’s not,” Brian insisted. “I think you’re imagining things.”

“Oh yeah?” Rome spread his arms to the sky. “Say something then! To fucking God and everybody!”

Brian shook his head at Rome. “Thought you knew me better than that, man.”

Brian called over his shoulder. “Tej?”

Tej’s voice filtered up. “Yeah, Bullitt?”

“I like cock,” Brian pitched his voice so it would carry across water. “More than a little bit.”

After a medium-sized pause, Tej yelled back, “Uh, OK!” There was a short silence where Brian heard Nejo say very clearly to Saskia, ‘Wow, that will never stop being hot.’ Brian’s mouth twitched. 

Rome blinked. He squinted at Brian. After a second, he tried to step down off the railing, misjudged it and nearly nailed himself in the balls. 

“You clumsy ass,” Brian sighed, catching him before he compromised his fertility.

“Hey, I been drinking all day,” Rome had managed not to drop the bottle and he took a long swig.

“Yeah, I can smell.” Brian said.

Rome grinned. “I hadn’t been…impaired. I’d’ve remembered not to double-dog dare you like that.”

“Dare’s my middle name.” Brian slung an arm around Rome for support. 

“Your middle name is Michael,” Rome groused. 

“So you can remember something,” Brian nodded. “That’s good.”

Rome whapped him. “I think I’m really drunk now.”

“Really?” Brian asked sweetly.

Rome tried to whap him again and missed. “You gonna take up with that dude from LA?”

“Dom,” Brian said. “His name is Dom. And…maybe.”

“If he…” Rome hiccupped and rolled his head. “…When he comes back are you gonna be happy?”

Brian winced. “Yeah, I….jeez, Roman I don’t know.” 

“C’mon, brah,” Rome leaned on him heavily. “No bullshit.”

Brian finally nodded. “Yeah, I guess….if he stays.”

Rome slumped down like a rag doll. “Shit man. Now I gotta, like, make all nice...”

Brian slapped Rome on the back of his head. “Oh yeah. Please don’t do me any favors. You turn on the charm, he’ll be out of here like a scalded dog.”

“S’cool, brah,” Rome slid and slurred around the words. “Gotta say though, I still don’ like him. He’s kinda a dick.”

“Then you have a lot in common,” Brian said gravely.

“Mmmhmmm,” Rome grinned, brilliantly white. “I guess so.” 

****

By Saturday, Rome had slept it off enough to go back to his cot at Tej’s. He’d grumbled about staying with Brian, but Brian had pointed out that Tej was more than willing to dump his worthless self in the canal and Maria wouldn’t hesitate before breaking up with his sorry, hungover ass, so Brian was really the last best hope.

Brian was taking what felt like his first peaceful breath on Saturday evening, when a distinctive rumbling echoed three blocks away. He slouched down further in his deck chair, not really daring to hope. That could be any old Plymouth. They all had that deep throaty growl. By the time the rumble started shaking the bungalows that skirted the marina, Brian had already run his fingers through his hair twice. 

He stood up and watched Dom’s chassis glide down the street. Dom pulled up and scanned the houseboats and Brian realized with a faint sense of unreality that Dom had never actually been here. It was nice to watch Dom unobserved. Dom looked so focused and intent. He was wearing a collared shirt that had the words ‘Da Costa’ printed in fancy script across the back. Brian stiffened. _What the fuck?_

“Hey,” he called from the deck. “You looking for me?”

Dom followed his voice and grinned up at him, “You order a pizza?”

“Nah, I ordered the salami sandwich,” Brian raised one eyebrow. “Plus, Da Costa don’t make pizza. They mod engines.”

Dom nodded as if he was hearing this for the first time. “Is that a fact?”

“Yup,” Brian pursed his lips. “Any particular reason you’re working for my biggest competitor?”

“Permission to board, Captain?” Dom made his expression particularly winsome. Brian found himself cynically wondering what Letty would have made of that face.

“Explain first,” Brian made a stop! gesture.

“Maybe I could come in and explain?” Dom rumbled. He raised his eyebrows hopefully. 

Brian blew out his breath and shrugged. Dom leaped aboard happily. When he stepped up to the deck, Brian was waiting. 

“So what’s the story?” Brian plucked at the crisp edge of Dom’s sleeve where it clung to his bicep for dear life.

“Well…” Dom started. 

“And where the fuck have you been?” He was so glad to see Dom, it really made him kind of frightened and angry. “I mean, is that your usual M.O.? Fuck my brains out and then just fade?”

Dom’s mouth had fallen open momentarily. He shut it. 

“Why have a cell phone, huh?” Brian was on a roll. “You son of a bitch, why the hell didn’t you just…”

“Whoa,” Dom spread his hands placating. “Don’t you think you’re kinda being a little harsh?” 

“No, not really.” Brian folded his arms. “I mean…I really…”

Brian brought himself up short. Finish that sentence, he thought, and kiss your ‘cool’ rep goodbye. 

But he didn’t need to finish it. Dom was smiling now, so wide it looked like it kinda hurt his face a little and while it was adorable, it wasn’t cool in the least. 

“Yeah?” Dom cleared his throat. “I really…too.” 

He leaned forward eagerly, ardently, but Brian took a long step back. 

“Hey,” Brian caught Dom’s eyes and held them. “Explain.”

Dom rolled his lower lip under his teeth. “It’s pretty simple really.”

“Awesome,” Brian leaned on the railing. “I’m all ears.”

Dom sighed. “Job’s just a temporary thing. I took it to get that space filled on the credit application.”

Brian nodded, confused. “Credit application.”

“For the mortgage loan,” Dom nodded back at him.

Brian kept nodding. “Mortgage loan.”

“For the house?” Dom cocked his head at Brian. “Get how that works?”

“House, right,” Brian stopped nodding. “Wait, you’re buying a house?”

Dom shrugged, “It’s a bungalow. Not too far away.”

While Brian stayed blank and silent, Dom said uneasily, “It has two bedrooms.”

“Why are you buying a house?” Brian asked around the saliva in his mouth.

Dom actually looked down at his hands and started twisting his keys. “Dunno. Thought maybe you’d like to come to dinner sometime.” 

“You got a job and found a house and bought it in less than a week so you could invite me to dinner.” Brian said without any inflection at all.

“Yeah, well.” Dom shifted his weight. “Say it like that and it does sound….”

“Yeah, okay,” Brian stepped inside. “I’m tired of talking.”

Dom stood uncertainly on the threshold. “So, uhm…” He peered around the pass through into the bedroom. 

“Are you fucking coming?” Brian projected around his shirt. He’d already lost his Tevas somewhere. 

“You gonna be nice to me now?” Dom muttered. He almost tripped on the surfboard, it was kind of tight with both of them on the houseboat.

“I didn’t say that,” Brian hooked his fingers over Dom’s waistband and tugged. 

Dom got the picture without much more chitchat. He snaked out of most of his clothes while Brian sucked on his tongue. The bed groaned when Brian turned and shoved him, but Dom just laughed and snatched at Brian’s knee until he toppled next to Dom. They could be nice, talk, eat, do everything later, but now they needed to get close and get off. 

Brian drew two fingers over the long muscle that curved over Dom’s thigh. When he reached Dom’s crotch, he fanned his fingers and pressed firmly. Dom jerked and moaned deliciously. Dom rolled over onto him and Brian gasped. Dom’s thigh was hot and heavy over his cock, Dom’s kisses burned a chain down his chest and Dom was squeezing and clutching at him and it was melting hot, he was melting.

Brian gave himself up to the heat of Dom’s hands and mouth. He scraped the back of his knuckles against Dom’s nipples, clutched Dom’s hip with one shaking hand and canted his hips up to get more of that warm weight. 

The hot pressure of Dom’s cock in the crease where his thigh meets his groin made Brian shut his eyes. Sweat was making the slide easier. Dom was mouthing his ear, his neck, gently licking until he really sank his teeth in to bite and Brian gasped and came on Dom’s chest. Brian’s eyes fluttered shut and his skin fizzed with too much sensation, but he could still feel Dom shudder and spurt. 

After his breath had slowed a bit, Brian felt Dom pull back a foot. When he opened his eyes Dom was looking at him, with eyes so warm that little drops of sweat prickled Brian all over his body and he shuddered. 

Dom pursed his lips and blew gently over Brian’s cheekbone and for one long, sweet moment, everything was cool. 

 

 

The end


End file.
